


The Light of Stars

by tiffdawg



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, But Like Mutual Pining to the Extreme, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffdawg/pseuds/tiffdawg
Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers.Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 203
Kudos: 500





	1. Convergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is just something I’ve been playing around with since January and finally decided to post. It’s my first multi-chapter fic and it’s a slow burn so strap in - this is going to be a wild ride. I really hope you enjoy reading and can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 
> 
> P.S. the title is from a Longfellow poem of the same name that this space nerd thought was just neat 
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** none.

Felucia’s atmosphere felt so thick it was practically unbreathable. The bright sun shone through a dense canopy of trees that offered plenty of shade at the cost of trapping the humid air at ground level. Even though he was walking at a pace slow enough for the Child to keep up with him, Din felt like he was sweating through his Beskar. His little foundling didn’t seem to mind as he happily toddled along beside him, stopping every few paces to inspect the vibrant flora or collect a colorful stone. He was already attempting to carry three turquoise-colored rocks in his small hands and Din couldn’t help but think the added weight was slowing the kid down even more. 

Din had landed the _Razor Crest_ in clearing on the outskirts of town earlier that morning. The walk from the ship to the central market hadn’t taken nearly as long as the kid had been half asleep and completely content with being carried. Now he was wide awake, restless, and determined to explore the new planet. With as much time as they spent within the confines of the _Crest_ , Din was inclined to indulge him. He repositioned the rucksack he’d filled with medical supplies, rations, and various other necessities purchased at the market and paused so the toddler could run his fingers across the delicate petals of a flower bigger than himself, dropping his collection of stones in the process. He sighed at the sight, a laugh barely more than a huff of air escaping him, but his thoughts turned back to the subject that preoccupied his mind recently. 

They’d left Nevarro a couple of weeks back, but he was still unsure where to start his search for the Child’s people. With only scraps of information had to go on, he didn’t have a clue where he’d find some mystical race of Jedi sorcerers. _Enemy_ sorcerers, apparently. He’d determined that he needed to learn more about the conflict between the Jedi and Mandalorians. There probably once was some record of it in the archives on Mandalore, but he doubted the Imperials left anything behind in their purge of the planet and his people. It was probably a dangerous place to start, but it was a start, and as soon as they made it back to his ship, Din resolved to punch in the coordinates for the Mandalorian home world. He pulled himself from his thoughts just in time to catch the kid as he veered left and wandered off the path. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, knowing he’d get little in response. With a sigh, he followed the Child, tracking his every movement through the thick undergrowth. Din considered scooping the kid up and carrying him the rest of the trek to the ship, but he hesitated. The little guy seemed to know exactly where he was going, and he was determined to get there.

Soon enough, the jungle labyrinth opened to reveal a breathtaking sight. Hidden in the dense jungle was an expanse of crystal-clear water, sparkling with the reflection of the sun above. Several streams of water cascaded into the basin from a jagged, moss-covered cliffside directly in front of him and the spray from the waterfalls cooled the air significantly. As Din admired the sight before him, he finally felt as though he could breathe properly. Next to him, the Child let out a soft coo of appreciation before starting off towards the shore, climbing over rocks twice his size to get to his final destination. Din followed, just as he found himself doing more often than not as of late. 

As he drew closer to the edge of the lagoon, he noticed a lone figure sitting cross-legged on a smooth rock near the shore, his hand instinctively drawing nearer to the blaster on his hip. Yet, he found himself transfixed by the meditating woman and, for a moment, he could’ve sworn you were floating a few inches above the ground. Before he could process that, his attention snapped to the small green creature scaling the rock you were sitting on. Din’s eyes widened beneath his helmet and he rushed forward, but the kid was faster than him and already reaching out towards you, gently placing a clawed hand on your knee. 

“Hello,” you said with a smile. You held out a hand to the Child who instantly wrapped his tiny fingers around one of your own. “I thought I felt someone sneaking up on me.” 

The Child laughed in response and a grin matching yours stretched out across his face. Din stood perfectly still, watching the interaction with interest, but nearby enough to intervene if necessary.

“He’s quite stealthy, isn’t he?” This time you addressed your question to Din, turning to face him for the first time. Somehow, your bright eyes met his behind the visor and a strange sense of being seen washed over him. He shook the feeling off and approached the rock.

“You’ve got no idea,” he finally answered.

“And so curious,” you said as you looked back at the Child, who was climbing into your lap and clawing for the shiny gold charm hanging from the chord around your neck.

“Dangerously.”

You laughed, although Din wasn’t sure whether in response to his comment or the Child’s attempt to chew on your necklace. His affinity for shiny things was seemingly boundless.

“I bet you get into all kinds of trouble,” you said while you carefully removed the charm from the Child’s grasp and hoisted the baby into your arms in one easy movement as you stepped down from your perch on the rock, “But something tells me you’re never in trouble for very long. You’re much too adorable for that.” 

With a sweet stroke of one of his oversized ears, you handed the baby back to Din and met his gaze once more. The Child allowed Din to hold him, but his focus was still on you. As mysterious as you were, there was clearly something about you that had captured the kid’s attention. Maybe his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him earlier.

“You’re a Jedi?” The question sounded harsher than he’d meant it.

“Not hardly.” You scoffed and turned away, averting your gaze. When you looked up at him again, your expression hardened. “This is not something I share with strangers, but if what you’re asking is if I can use the Force, then yes.”

“The Force?” Din tested the word on his tongue.

“Just like he can, right?” You gestured to the Child in his arms.

“How did-”

“I can sense him, just like he sensed me. He’s strong with the Force. Much stronger than anyone of his size or age has the right to be.” You gave a breathy laugh, but you eyed the kid seriously.  
He wasn’t quite sure what to make of your comments. You talked about this Force and the Child’s powers as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. It was disarming. So instead, he quipped 

“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s fifty.” This time you threw back your head and let out a real laugh, the light finally returning to your face.

“A fifty-year-old baby? You’re serious?” you asked incredulously. He nodded and you graced him with another smile. “A fifty-year-old, force sensitive, tiny green baby. Well, I’ve seen it all now. He’s yours?”

“He’s my foundling.” It struck him that was the first time he’d admitted out loud that the child was, in fact, his foundling. But what surprised him was the foreign sense of pride that swelled in his chest at his own words.

“Oh, I understand.” A quiet moment passed between the two of you, broken only by the babbling of the Child trying to regain your attention. Your focus, however, was on him, and again you met his eyes through the visor as if you knew just where to look. He rationalized it as having something to do with the powers you shared with the kid. “I’ve heard the epic tales of the fierce warriors from Mandalore, but I’ve also heard the whispers that your people value raising children above all else. I’m glad to see that part is true.”

Once again, your words struck him, but he said nothing in response for a long moment, instead, finding himself looking you over as if in hopes of explaining the woman before him. There was a light sheen to your flushed skin most likely from the humid Felucian air and he was certain you were stronger than you looked. You were dressed simply in light linen trousers and a gauzy top that matched the color of the lush green jungle. The only decoration you wore was the simple crescent moon necklace the baby had attempted to chew on earlier and he could gleam little about you by your outward appearance. Though you were certainly younger than Din, there was wisdom in your eyes. So, he decided to trust you.

“He’s my foundling, but I’m looking for his people. What do you know about the Jedi?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know if I can be of any help with that.” You shook your head and looked down at your worn boots. You seemed to deflate at the inquiry, but he could tell you were still considering his question, lips pursed, and brow furrowed, so he patiently waited for you to continue. “The Empire did everything they could to destroy the Jedi. And they were successful, to say the least. There are rumors still...but no one’s seen a Jedi in decades.”

That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. His mission was looking more and more hopeless every minute if even a woman who could actually use this Force couldn’t help him.

“My master trained with the Jedi as a youngling.” You said it so quietly he almost didn’t catch your words.

“Where is your master now?” he prodded, leaning towards you to catch your gaze once more.

“I wish I knew. I’ve been looking for her ever since the war ended.” You sighed and started to gather your few belongings. You carelessly tossed your canteen into your satchel before settling the strap of the bag across your body. “Why is so important that you find the Jedi anyway? If he’s your foundling, aren’t you his father?”

“It’s complicated.” He could tell you didn’t like his answer by the slight scowl marring your features. The baby turned just enough in his arms so that he was also frowning up at Din, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the kid’s accusatory face. “He may be my foundling, but I can’t teach him how to use his powers and I fear he’s too strong for his own good.”

“He’s definitely strong,” you said, repeating your earlier assessment. The kid reached out to you and you once again offered your hand in return, unable to do anything but give into him. Three claws wrapped firmly around your finger.

“Maybe you could help him.”

Your eyes widened at his suggestion and he was almost as surprised at his own words. It was as if his mouth had gotten ahead of his brain. But it made sense. The kid had clearly felt an instant connection to you and Din suspected you knew more about the Jedi than you were letting on.  
“I could start his training,” you offered hesitantly, “And maybe you could help me find my master. She’ll have more answers for you than I do.”

Din held out his hand and relief washed over him when you took it. As the unlikely pair shook on the arrangement, the Child let out a happy wail. You reached out again and held his tiny hand with your thumb and index finger, mimicking a handshake. The kid laughed and you beamed at him. For the first time in weeks, Din felt a sliver of hope. He’d found someone who could help the Child and might be able to lead them to the Jedi. Well, the kid had found you. When you stopped playing with the baby and looked back up at Din, you were still smiling. He immediately ignored the sensation in his stomach your expression produced. Instead, he cleared his throat and started walking back towards the path.

“My ship’s not too far from here.” He commented.

“The _Razor Crest_?” You perked up at the mention of his ship and quickly fell in step next to him.

“Yeah. How’d you know? Sense that, too?”

“I saw you guys land this morning. If you can’t tell, this is a rather remote part of Felucia. This sleepy town doesn’t see a whole lot of traffic, so it was noticeable,” you stated factually, but there was a hint of humor. “More importantly, was that a joke, Mandalorian?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t get used to it.”

“Are we leaving today?” you asked, eagerly redirecting the conversation.

“That’s the plan. There’s no reason to stay here.”

“No, definitely not. I’ve been waiting weeks to get off of this damn planet.” When they reached the footpath, you took a few steps towards the town and Din tilted his head in question. Spinning back around on your heel, you answered his unspoken question. “I just need to run and get the rest of my things. I don’t have much and I won’t be long, I promise.”

“You’ll be able to find us?” He asked.

You turned and started running towards the town center. “Don’t worry about it. Just don’t leave without me,” you shouted back over your shoulder with an excited wave.  
He shook his head at the sight of your receding figure and a small laugh escaped him.

“What do you think, kid?” He asked his foundling. “Something tells me she’ll make things interesting for us.”

The baby looked up at him and made a babbling sound that he took as a sign of agreement.

… . …

While you’d had some understanding of the schematics of _Razor Crest_ class gunships, you never would’ve imagined the military craft as suitable for personal living quarters. The Mandalorian had offered you a small room that was definitely intended for storage with a single bunk and not much space for anything else. You sighed at the sad state of your new quarters and dropped your few belongings on the bunk. Fortunately, you didn’t own much: a few spare outfits and a parka you’d kept from your time serving on Hoth, some toiletries, an outdated datapad, and, of course, your lightsaber. You made sure your weapon was carefully tucked away beneath your clothes, safely hidden from sight, before leaving your new room and climbing down to the hull of the ship.

The cold, metallic interior of the _Razor Crest_ wasn’t particularly inviting, but it was better than half of the places you’d stayed in over the past few years. You were more than used to the type of austere, nomadic lifestyle the Mandalorian seemed to live. After quickly scanning the contents of the hull, eyes lingering on the carbon freezer and noting the empty racks, you scaled the ladder leading to the cockpit.

Your new companion was busy with necessary pre-flight adjustments, his controlled movements indicating a certain level of skill and precision that you appreciated. You’d decided in a bold moment to trust this man; it was reassuring to see that he knew what he was doing. While he didn’t take much notice when you entered the room, the baby chirped happily upon your arrival. You waved at him, earning yourself a tiny wave in return.

“You said you had an idea about where to go next. What are the coordinates?” he asked, finally acknowledging you.

“It’s a planet called Vrogas Vas.” You moved to stand next to him at the control panel. “It won’t be on any of your starmaps.”

“So, this place might not even be real and yet you think your master will be there?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But I recently learned that there’s an ancient temple there, long abandoned but connected to the Force. Supposedly. The last time I saw her, Master Zarichi was obsessed with finding some old Jedi relic. I probably should’ve paid more attention…” you trailed off, remembering the last time you saw your master. You shook the old memories from your mind and started to punch in the coordinates you’d forced yourself to memorize a few weeks back. “I think she might’ve been there recently and that might be enough for me to sense where she is now.”

“ _Might_?” He sounded skeptical. His helmet snapped towards you, facing you fully for the first time. You had to admit that he had every reason to be wary.

“I know it’s not much to go on, but the connection between a student and master is strong. If she’s been there, I think I can figure out where she is now. Trust me.”

He hummed noncommittally in response and turned back to the controls, quietly prepping the dual engines. The gunship roared to life and you strapped yourself into the seat to his left. You highly doubted you had his trust, but he set course for the coordinates you’d provided anyway.

“Well then,” he finally said as he lifted the ship off the lush surface of the jungle planet, “let’s go.”

It’d been a few hours since the Mandalorian had set course and launched the Razor Crest into hyperdrive, and yet you had only exchanged a few cursory words. The baby fell asleep shortly after leaving Felucia’s atmosphere and the cockpit was silent save for his occasional soft snores and the constant mechanical hum of the ship. While you were well accustomed to long-haul flights through space, the quiet was a bit unnerving.

“How long will it take us to reach Vrogas Vas?” you asked, breaking the silence with the first question that popped into your head. He looked over his shoulder at you, his visor giving no hint as to his thoughts or feelings, and you contemplated for a moment if he’d forgotten you even existed.

“A couple of days. It’s halfway across the galaxy and we’ll have to refuel at some point,” he answered matter-of-factly. You nodded your understanding and when you couldn’t think of anything else to say, he turned back to the transparisteel window and the silence returned. That was, until he surprised you with a question of his own.

“How were you traveling around so much without a ship of your own?” For some reason, it struck you as an odd question, but maybe not an unwarranted one. The list of plants you’d managed to search while looking for Master Zarichi over the past couple of years was impressive for someone without transportation.

“When I had the credits, I’d pay for transport. When I didn’t, which, admittedly, was most of the time, I had to rely on the kindness of strangers. Not an easy thing to do in this galaxy. Although, there were more than a few occasions where I was less of a passenger and more of a stowaway.”

“That wasn’t dangerous?”

“It absolutely was,” you admitted with a small laugh, “but I wasn’t worried. I’m more than capable of defending myself. Hell, I could definitely take you in a fight, Mandalorian.” That caught his attention again. He set the navigation to autopilot and turned his chair around so that he was facing you completely. You crossed your arms over your chest and held his gaze steadily, daring him to challenge your claim.

“We’ll see about that.” You were sure you caught a hint of mischievousness in his modulated tone and you couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“Looking forward to it.” In all honesty, you were. Sparring with a Mandalorian would be the first real challenge you’d had in a while. It’d been a long time since you had anyone to train with, outside of the occasional, _accidental_ bar fight. If there’s one thing that rings true across the galaxy, it’s that men never seem to know when to take no for an answer. “Anyway, it hardly ever came to that. If I really needed transit, I could persuade just about anyone to take me where I wanted to go.” The slight tilt of his helmet told you that he didn’t quite understand your meaning. “With the Force, that is,” you added, waving your hand with a bit of a flourish as if to demonstrate.

“How?” His question was sharp, but his curiosity was evident.

“Well, if you’re strong with the Force, you can influence a person’s thoughts or actions. I would simply suggest that someone offer me passage and they would as if it was their own idea. I was usually met with little resistance.”

“Can he do that?” His focus turned to the snoozing child. You rose from your seat to crouch next to the baby to study him more closely. You could feel how strong he was as his Force signature radiated off his tiny body. He was unlike anything you’d ever come across before, which was certainly saying something given the life you’d lived so far.

“No. Not yet, at least. It takes practice.” You leaned down to inspect the baby in his makeshift crib. You ran a gentle finger down the bridge of his tiny nose, hoping to soothe the baby while he slept. 

“Though I wonder if he doesn’t do it in… a gentler way. To soften people towards him.” 

“Great,” the Mandalorian mumbled more to himself than to you, “As if his powers weren’t enough already, the kid might be able to control minds, too.”

“I’m guessing he’s the first Force sensitive being you’ve encountered. This is all new to you.”

“Extremely,” he replied dryly. Despite his impassive tone and the modulator distorting his voice, you recognized his apprehension. Very few beings knew of your abilities, but your powers were always received the same: fear, disbelief, distrust.

But maybe the Mandalorian would be different. He seemed to care for his force-sensitive foundling as if it was his own flesh and blood. Maybe you could show him that there was nothing to fear.

“What have you seen him do so far?”

“If I hadn’t seen it all myself, I wouldn’t believe it.” He paused for a moment, visor still trained on the Child, and you had the fleeting thought that his abilities might frighten him. Although, terror and awe are often close to one another. “He healed a mortal injury, held back the flames of a Fire Trooper, and stopped a charging mudhorn. He lifted it clear off the ground.”

Your eyes dropped to his pauldron as you considered the significance of his mudhorn signet. There was a story there and you wondered, not for the first time, how he acquired his foundling. You weren’t sure if that was a story he’d share with you, so you didn’t pursue the topic.

“Not all at once,” the Mandalorian continued, “He doesn’t do it often and he’s exhausted afterwards. He slept for days after the incident with the mudhorn. Although he does seem to be recovering faster.”

“Still, that’s all incredible,” You replied, unable to keep your disbelief from your voice. “Next time we stop somewhere safe, I’d like to start his training. We’ll start small. Nothing like levitating a mudhorn.”

“That would be good. He needs that. Before he hurts himself.” He regarded the sleeping child. You were certain this time you could hear the worry creeping into his voice, seeping through the modulator, and your instinct was to comfort him.

“Don’t worry, Mandalorian, I can help you. Both of you.” While you didn’t know what your journey together would bring, if you would ever be able to find your master or the answers he was seeking, you were confident that you could help the Child learn to control his powers. Maybe you could even ease some of the Mandalorian’s apprehensions about the Force. It wasn’t something to be feared. He fixed his visor on you once more, carefully considering you and your words. A long moment passed until he finally spoke again.

“I really hope so.”

Before either one of you could say another word, several controls on the ship’s console started flashing red and a blaring alarm rang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	2. Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure continues, but not with out a few setbacks for our heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is here! And I'm already halfway through the next part so that should be out next week. As always, thanks so much for reading. Oh, and happy birthday to our Mandalorian, Pedro Pascal!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** none.

“What the hell is going on?” You shouted at Din over the sound of the alarm. On his other side, the Child let out a sharp screech as if asking the same thing.

“Not sure,” he answered truthfully, “But I need you to hit the emergency override.” He pointed to the wall behind you. He was grateful when you jumped up, quick to follow his order, and did as you were told without needing any further instructions. The alarm mercifully ceased but the red signals continued to cast an eerie crimson glow across the cabin. There was definitely something wrong with his ship. After years of flying the _Razor Crest_ , he only needed a quick glance at the readouts on the HUD and the fuel levels before he knew exactly the cause of all the trouble.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, flipping the necessary switches as fast as physically possible. “Get ready to drop from hyperspace. This isn’t going to be pretty.”

Din heard the click of your restraints as you hastily buckled into the passenger seat and he briefly looked over his shoulder to make sure the kid was strapped into his crib. Once he was sure you were both safe, he pulled hard on the hyperdrive lever. The ship shuttered around them at the unexpected change of course and the telltale stream of blue starlight faded from the viewport as the _Crest_ dropped from lightspeed. The Child gave an excited, bubbly laugh behind him and Din turned partially around so that he could look the kid over.

“You would enjoy that,” he said, letting out an exasperated sound, something halfway between a laugh and a sigh. Returning his attention to the ship’s controls, he pulled up the star chart on the HUD and set course for the closet planet with a spaceport. Not that he had many options.

“Ever been to Saleucami?” he deadpanned.

“Can’t say that I have, no,” You answered breathlessly behind him.

“Well, today’s your lucky day.” He punched in the coordinates and maneuvered the ship towards the backwater planet.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” There was an edge to your voice, and he felt a twinge of guilt run through him. He wasn’t exactly used to traveling with someone and never did explain what caused the alarm or the sudden drop from hyperspace.

“Looks like a fuel leak so we’ll be stopping a bit earlier than expected. We should just be able to reach Saleucami for repairs and refueling.”

“Does this sort of thing happen often?”

“No.” He lied but amended it quickly and the ship shuddered around them and you scoffed at him. “Yes. It is an older ship, so it happens sometimes.”

“Good to know.” You let out a deep breath behind him.

As far as spaceports on the Outer Rim go, Saleucami wasn’t particularly impressive, but it wasn’t the worst Din had visited over the years. In fact, many considered the planet to be a quaint oasis. As he haggled with a surly Weequay mechanic in a rather run-down docking bay, Din felt more like he was in his own personal hell.

“It’s a simple fuel leak. There’s no way repairs should cost that much.”

“If you don’t like my quote, go somewhere else, Mando.” The mechanic pointed a stern finger at him as he spoke, and it took every ounce of self-control Din had to stay calm. His right hand twitched at his side, but he forced himself not to ignite the flamethrower on his vambrace as he remembered that if it did work with a bunch of Jawas, it wouldn’t work now. Instead he shook his head and turned away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Din grumbled more to himself than the irritable man he was negotiating with.

“Frankly, I’d like to see you try to get that busted ship out of my shop. Things have been boring around here and I could use a good laugh.” Despite his taunts, Din knew he was right. The _Crest_ wasn’t going anywhere.

“Fine,” he spat out between gritted teeth, “We have a deal.”

“Ah, see,” the Weequay slapped a sweaty hand against Din’s shoulder. The mechanic’s mood seemed to change instantly. “I knew you’d come around. And since we’re such good friends now, I’ll bump you up in line. We’ll get started on your ship right away.”

Din refused to respond, shrugging off the man’s hand. He figured he was paying him enough that he didn’t have to be nice about it. The Weequay smiled at him anyway and then whistled sharply. A couple of service droids whirred to life and rushed towards his ship. He bit back his usual request for no droids. His entire world had been turned upside down in the past few weeks. While a former bounty droid saving the kid and sacrificing its life for Din didn’t absolve all droids in his mind, a few astromechs working on his ship seemed like the least of his problems at this point.

As his line of sight was drawn back towards the ship by the scuttling droids, he noticed you disembarking. You walked at a place slow enough for the kid to keep up, taking one small stride for ten of his. You seemed to be speaking to him, and every few steps the Child would stop his progress down the ramp to look up at you and respond. He shook his head at the sight, not quite knowing what to make of it, but unable to look away.

“Hey,” he said, catching the Weequay’s attention once more. “Is there a cantina nearby? Somewhere they could get something to eat and I could find work. That is, if you want to get paid for these overly expensive repairs.”

“Oh, of course! My brother runs the best cantina in town. It’s just a few streets over.” He quickly pulled up a map on his datapad and pointed out the cantina. He jested boldly, “Good food and good bounties! Don’t you worry, Mando, it’s the perfect place for you. Tell them Jax sent you, you’ll get a good deal.”

“I’m sure I will,” Din muttered under his breath as he moved around Jax to meet you and the kid.

If by “best cantina in town” Jax meant dark and outdated with just a touch of a criminal element, then it probably was the best cantina in town. It was early enough in the evening that only a few patrons sat around the bar drinking and speaking in hushed tones. As soon as he’d walked in, he knew it wouldn’t be hard to find work and he’d only had to briefly speak with the bartender, another Weequay and presumably Jax’s brother-in-law, before he was directed to a human sitting in a booth at the back of the cantina.

A slurping sound brought his attention back to the table as the Child devoured a bowl of stew. A bit dribbled down the side of his face, but the kid seemed unfazed, so Din just wiped it away with a gloved finger. Even without looking, he felt you watching the whole exchange from the other side of the table.

“So,” you started, fully capturing his attention. You spoke in between heaping spoonfuls of food. “Tell me more about this job”

“Some Gran failed to repay his gambling debts and is hiding out on the outskirts of town. Easy enough job, but the Hutts are looking for him so it pays well.”

“You don’t mind working for the Hutts?” You were eyeing him again with a slight scowl. “They’re _slavers_.”

“A job’s a job.” Even as he said it, he didn’t even believe his own words anymore. The kid slurping stew next to him was evidence enough to that. You huffed at his response and crossed your arms. “Look, working with the Hutts isn’t my first choice either,” he said, hoping to appease you, “But I’ve got to cover the repairs for the _Crest_ somehow so we can get off this _kriffing_ planet.”

Your eyes dropped from his and you nodded softly in acquiescence. He could tell you weren’t happy about the situation from the way you pushed your food around with your spoon. A minute ago, you were shoveling it in as fast as the kid. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach, but before he could offer an apology, you spoke up.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

“You don’t have-” he started.

“I want to.”

You were clearly still upset about the situation with the Hutts, but your overture seemed sincere. Though if the last day was any indication, he had the impression you were a strong-willed woman and would continue to challenge him. For some reason, that thought didn’t bother Din.

“Like I said, it’s an easy job and I should be back by morning. Just take care of the kid tonight.”

“I could do more,” you offered.

“I’m sure you could. But that’ll be plenty.”

“Okay,” you nodded again, this time with a faint smile, and went back to your food. When you finished a few minutes later, he picked the kid up. This time, the Child didn’t protest to being carried, but rather relaxed into Din’s arms, smacking his lips a few times and patting his little belly.

“Lucky for you, the kid ate his weight in stew and will probably sleep through the night.” He went to exit the seedy cantina but turned back around when you didn’t follow.

“Take sleepyhead back to the ship. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“Sure.” Your actions continued to perplex him, but he took his leave anyway.

… . …

Based on the scene that greeted you when you entered the docking bay, the Child would not be sleeping through the night. At least not anytime soon. It appeared that sometime on the walk back from the cantina to the ship, the mix of an extended naptime and a hearty meal finally caught up with the kid and he was now running, as fast as his tiny legs would permit, full speed around the ship bay. The curious little toddler inspected everything in his path and squealed happily at each and every droid he encountered. Meanwhile, the Mandalorian stood idly by, shaking his head at the baby’s escapade, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Your quiet laugh alerted the Mandalorian to your presence as nothing seemed to escape his notice.

“So much for bedtime,” you joked lightly.

“It was too good to be true.” He made an exasperated sound as the kid tried to climb up the leg of a pit droid.

“I have an idea.” You jogged over and gingerly removed the Child from his perch on top of the DUM-series droid. The droid chattered at you and gestured towards the mess of parts laying in front of him. You muttered a quick apology and hurried off with the kid, leaving the mech to his work. As you carried the kid inside the hull of the ship, the Mandalorian fell in step behind you.

“Can I try something?” you asked, seeking his permission. “Just something small, to get him to focus.”

“Go for it.”

You set the child in the center of the cargo hold and he, unsurprisingly, resumed his mad dash around the ship. You scanned the space for a small but safe-enough object, finally settling on what appeared to be an old compressor valve cap that was lying amidst some spare parts. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the ship’s hull, you took a few deep, steadying breaths, centering yourself with the Force. When the kid finally noticed what you were doing, he waddled up to you and sat across from you as if trying to mirror your position. He might’ve been too young to meditate properly, but he seemed to understand the purpose of your stillness. You felt his signature in the Force calm down as his big brown eyes stared at you inquisitively.

You stayed like that for a few minutes. Then, with practiced ease, you levitated the valve cap, lifting it slowly so that it floated in between you and the kid. His ears perked up at that and you smiled down at him. With a flourish of your fingers, you spun the spare part in mid-air before reaching out to catch it.

“Now, you try.” You set the object in front of the kid. “I heard about the mudhorn, so I know you can do it.”

The kid trained his wide eyes on the Mandalorian, who nodded once in return, urging him on. His focus back on the valve, he reached out a clawed hand, eyes squinting in concentration. For a long moment nothing happened but it didn’t surprise you; from what the Mandalorian told you, the kid had only used his powers in life or death situations. It would take a bit of practice before he could call upon the Force at will. Still, you weren’t surprised when the object began to shakily float in the air, following the path the kid traced with his hand, before tumbling back to the ground with a small clatter.

“Good job,” you cooed, gently stroking the tip of one of his ears, much to the kid’s pleasure. He made a second attempt, lifting the object with a bit more ease, before bringing it to himself. He then promptly shoved it into his mouth, chewing on one of the corners.

“Let’s not eat old ship parts, kid.” There was no menace to his scolding as the Mandalorian gently pulled the spit-soaked part out of the kid’s grasp. You stood so that you were facing him, with a proud smile you couldn’t keep at bay.

“That’s one special son you have here, Mandalorian.”

“Yes, he is.” The kid babbled in agreement. He’d moved in between the two of you and was beaming up at you. “You know, you can just call me Mando.”

“Seems a bit impersonal,” you said as you considered the Mandalorian before you, “But if you insist.” You found yourself wondering, not for the first time, who exactly was the man beneath the Beskar and if the eyes under the visor held your gaze in the piercing way you imagined. You pushed those thoughts from your head as quickly as they invaded your mind, internally chiding yourself for thinking like that. When you broke away from his stare, your eyes fell on your forgotten satchel. “Oh, Mando!” you said, testing his moniker, “I can’t believe I almost forgot.” You rummaged through your bag before offering a small container to him. “You didn’t eat at the cantina, so I had them package something up for you.”

“You did?” He asked, unable to hide the bewilderment in his voice.

“Yeah, of course. It’s no big deal,” you said, trying to brush off the gesture.

“It is, actually,” he replied, and you felt him lean a bit closer, his dark visor trained on your face. This time, you didn’t need to see his eyes to know he was studying you, and it made you sad that such a small gesture could so easily confound the stoic Mandalorian. You waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed to be finished speaking, so you tried to fill the silence.

“Consider it my thanks for getting the credits we need to get out of here. I only wish I had more to offer. I can keep practicing with the kid so you can eat in private before you go.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, carefully taking the container from your hands as if it were something much more precious than cantina food. With that, he disappeared deeper into the ship to wherever his own quarters must be. Trying not to dwell on the peculiar interaction, you picked up a slightly heavier spare part off the pile from earlier, tossing it between your hands a couple of times to test the weight, before turning back to the kid.

“I must’ve been going easy on you earlier. Wanna try something harder?” You took his sly smile and happy chirping noises as a resounding yes.

The kid let you practice with him until long after Mando left and the droids outside ceased their work for the night. When he finally curled up in your lap and fell asleep, you thought your heart was going to burst from the darling gesture. You also felt an immense relief as you were beginning to think he’d never tire himself out. You carefully tucked him into his makeshift cot and, after a few moments of careful consideration, then proceeded to move it into your room right next to your bunk. The thought of him roaming the ship unsupervised at night terrified you and you were so exhausted you probably would’ve been able to sleep though a fair amount of his destruction. You laughed to yourself at the notion as you watched him sleep, his peaceful face betraying none of his impish tendencies.

When you finally crawled into your own bunk, you were too tired to even complain about how ridiculously uncomfortable the damn thing was. It was a small price to pay for transportation and decent company. Better than decent, if you were being honest. It’d been a long time since you’d had any type of companionship and while the bounty hunter and his strange green foundling were a curious pair, you were grateful for the company. With a final glance at the sleeping baby, you flicked off the overhead lights and tucked in for the night. Before sleep overtook you, you let your mind wander to places you hadn’t allowed it to in a long time, recalling memories of your own training as a youngling and mentally modifying old lessons to fit the kid’s needs.

… . …

After a few hours of searching, Din tracked the orange-skinned Gran to a small settlement a few clicks outside of the main spaceport. With three wide eyes, the bounty pleaded desperately for his freedom, but after an unsurprisingly short scuffle, Din had him in binders and settled into the backseat of the speeder he’d hired. The Gran might’ve been a gambler, but he certainly wasn’t a fighter.

Saleucami’s three moons were just setting for the night as they made their way back to the cantina where he was told to return the bounty. The human he’d met earlier sat in the same booth nursing what appeared to be his fifth drink of the night despite the late hour.

“Good work, Mando,” he said jovially with only a slight slur as he raised his cup to him, “Didn’t expect you back quite so soon but I must say I’m impressed. Drinks on me.”

Din didn’t say anything as he shoved the Gran into the booth across from his temporary employer. He remained standing, waiting patiently for the reward, and it was only when the man made no move that he finally spoke up.

“The rest of my payment?” he asked with a sigh. He’d already given the first cut to Jax, who was quick to remind him that it wouldn’t be nearly enough.

“Fine, no drinks then. Have it your way.” He tossed a heavy pouch of credits onto the tabletop. Din seized it and turned to leave without another word.

“You know,” the man shouted after him, “There’s more where that came from!” Din stilled halfway to the front entrance. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Mando,” he drawled. The client made a show of emptying his tankard and ordering another drink before he continued. “I told my employers about you, best in the parsec and all that. The Hutts are quite interested in hiring a Mandalorian for a certain well-paying job they’ve got lined up. It’s yours, if you want it.”

In the past, he wouldn’t have even had to think about it. He had just enough credits to pay Jax with a little left over for the ship’s next refueling. He’d need the money sooner rather than later. Especially if there were any more setbacks like this one. It should’ve been an easy answer, but it wasn’t. His gaze drifted to the booth he’d sat in the previous evening with you and the Child. Your reaction to learning he was working with the Hutts had been visceral and loomed heavily in his mind. You’d been nothing but kind to him, he mused as he recalled your unexpected offering of food and the affectionate way that you trained the Child. More importantly, he needed your help if he was going to find any answers about the kid’s people.

But he also needed the credits.

“I’m listening.”

… . …

The next morning, you woke to the tinny sounds of repair droids working outside the ship. It took you much longer than it should have to notice the deeper sound of boots treading on metal coming from inside the _Crest_. The baby, now wide awake in his carrier, seemed to make the connection at the same time that you did. His animated face hid none of his enthusiasm for his caretaker’s return as he reached towards you, silently begging to be taken to Mando. You jumped off your bunk and hoisted him up in one fluid motion, finding yourself just as excited that the Mandalorian was back from tracking down his bounty.

“You’re back early,” you said in place of a more typical greeting when you found him in the hull re-racking his weapons. He turned quickly and you almost felt bad for sneaking up on him. He probably wasn’t used to having anyone else besides the Child on his ship.

“Like I said, easy job,” he responded, taking the squirming baby from you. The Child instantly calmed down once he was with his father, leaning into the Mandalorian’s embrace and cooing contentedly. The tender way he held the baby against his chest plate brought a smile to your face as you watched the pair.

“Does that mean we can pay for the repairs now?” you asked after a moment.

“Yeah, but there’s going to be a slight detour,” he answered without looking up at you.

You gave a light laugh, “Why am I not surprised?”

“The client told me about another job,” Mando started to explain, “I didn’t want to take it, but the credits would cover us for a while. Especially if we have any more unexpected delays like this one.”

“What’s the job?”

“You’re not going to like it,” he said hesitantly.

“More Hutts?” You already knew the answer.

“More Hutts,” he affirmed. “And we have to go into Hutt Space.”

“You’re right. I don’t like it,” you said, and a tense silence filled the hull of the ship. “But it’s probably a good idea to have some credits on hand,” you could concede that much, but it didn’t make you feel any better. When he didn’t say anything, you kept talking despite herself. “I’ve been searching for Master Zarichi for five years so there’s no real rush and I suppose I’m just along for the ride at this point.” You cringed at the sarcasm dripping off her own words but didn’t have it in you to amend your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was spend a moment longer helping some _sleemo_ Hutts. When he still didn’t offer a reply, you told him you would be meditating and disappeared to your quarters.

You sat with your knees folded beneath you in the middle of your cramped bunk room, trying but failing miserably to center yourself. After decades of training, meditation was second nature to you. It usually came easy, like a calm wave washing you with only a few deep breaths. But every time you closed your eyes, images of slim-covered Hutts plundering your childhood village flashed unbridled before you. Try as you might to banish the memories, they just kept playing one after the other on a constant loop until your fury crested and you surrendered to it.

With a heavy sigh more akin to a growl, you collapsed from you practiced position and slumped against your bunk. Despite the silence around you, your master’s final words rang out loud in your mind. _Anger isn’t the way of the Jedi_. The words were an echo of a past long gone, but you remembered the night like it was yesterday.

_“You can’t leave us - not like this!” The foreign desperation in your master’s voice chilled you to the bone, almost made you want to say. Instead, you steeled yourself, refusing to be guilted into changing your mind, and left behind the warmth of the small hut for the thunderous storm raging outside._

_“Anger isn’t the way of the Jedi,” Master Zarichi called after you from the doorway, her voice cutting through the icy rain pouring from the dark sky, “Revenge is meant only for the Sith!”_

_“Well, then it’s a good thing I am neither,” you spat back over your shoulder as you walked away, fully prepared to leave the only home, the only family, you’d known since you were a child if it meant the Hutts and the Empire faced retribution for their crimes against the galaxy. You refused to watch passively any longer. Not when you finally had the power to do something and no matter what side of the Force you’d need to call on - Jedi and Sith both be damned._

_“We don’t need her anymore.” Your younger brother followed a step behind. You gave him a withering look, but before you could open your mouth to scold him, to tell him to say behind where he’d be safe, he spoke again, his words confident and predictable. “Where you go, I go.”_

_You nodded your acquiesce and he fell into step next to you. “This is not the path of the Jedi, you know.”_

_“No, this if for our parents. For us.”_

_“You’re damn right it is.”_

With careful fingers, you toyed with your mother’s necklace, letting the feel of the smooth curves and sharp points of the crescent moon finally calm you. You thought you’d worked through most of your anger towards the Hutts - the war had been surprisingly cathartic for you. Evidently a few weak embers laid dormant inside you, waiting all of this time to be stroked into a fierce flame. Fortunately, you’d given up all delusions of becoming a Jedi years ago and so you allowed yourself to feel your anger and hatred, if only for a moment before it was replaced with an equally powerful feeling of shame.

Sure, you didn’t like working with the Hutts; the very idea made your stomach turn. But what really started to irritate you was your own behavior. Even though you knew you had every right to stand your moral ground against the Mandalorian, you couldn’t help but feel like your criticism was making both of your lives more difficult. You were a grown woman and you hated that you felt like a petulant child. You’d had plenty of temporary partners on your previous travels and their actions never affected you like this. This one should’ve been no different. Mando was doing what he had to in order to get you halfway across the galaxy and, hopefully, closer to finding your master. You knew you shouldn’t care about the decisions he made to do so, and yet you did. _Deeply_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	3. Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio travel through Hutt Space and grow closer along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Warnings:** Hurt/comfort, one incident of sexist language, mild language.
> 
> Just a small warning to anyone who might be uncomfortable with it, but there's one minor sexist comment about midway through this chapter. If that might bother you, please skip over the paragraph starting with "the near-human whistled lowly..." You won't miss anything key and it's just that paragraph. Other than that, no new warning's apply but I did raise the rating to teen.

Nal Hutta was just under 6000 parsecs from Saleucami and you and Mando spent the entire flight in silence. No amount of meditation seemed to ease your frustration with yourself nor your Beskar-clad companion so when you had finally tired of your half-hearted attempts to center yourself with the Force, you reluctantly trudged into the main cabin and threw yourself into what you’d been starting to think of as your chair. Mando made no acknowledgement of your presence but it hardly surprised you. 

You made planetfall just after sunset. Mando landed the _Razor Crest_ on the outskirts of Bibousa, the urban center and heart of the Hutt homeworld. The small peninsula of solid ground the ship stood on was surrounded by a swampy bog and the second the telescopic ramp opened just a fraction a wave of hot, sticky air hit you head-on. Everything felt damp instantly and you actually found yourself missing the slightly less humid but infinitely more pleasant jungles of Felucia. You scowled at the swamp from the open hatch, loath to set foot on the planet’s surface.

But just as you’d made up your mind that the entire planet was nothing more than a disgusting, greasy slimeball, the last bit of daylight disappeared, and dozens of twinkling lights began to flicker around the ship. Despite yourself, you admitted the sight before you was beautiful. Breathtaking, even. It wasn’t until one of the lights flew by you that you recognized the tiny reptilian as a solbug, small bioluminescent lizard-like creatures with wings that seemed much too slight to propel their bulbous bodies through the air. Shimmering shades of blues and greens from the blinking solbugs lit the evening sky before you and you conceded that Nal Hutta had _one_ good thing going for it.

A jubilant squeal at your feet drew your attention to the Child, who’s wonderous eyes took in the scene before him. His innocent joy made your chest feel a bit lighter and you were grateful for your tiny new friend. Then he was off, speeding down the ramp as fast as his short legs could take him, hands stretched out towards the nearest solbug.

“I bet you ten credits he catches his own dinner tonight,” Mando retorted from where he stood next to you, his hands lazily resting on his belt. It was the first time either of you had spoken to the other in hours and, in your mild surprise, it took you a moment before you understood his meaning.

“You think he’s going to eat those things?” You turned to him, your eyes widening at the realization. “No way.”

His only response was to gesture towards the kid who was shoving a cerulean solbug into his mouth, swallowing the creature alive and whole. As soon as he finished the first, he started chasing a second helping. You weren’t sure if the sight before you made you want to gag or laugh and the sound that escaped you was a strange mix of both. Before you could comment on the little one’s exploits, Mando spoke again.

“Why do you hate the Hutts so much?”

You had been so wrapped up in the lighthearted moment unfolding before you that his question caught you off guard. You didn’t answer right away, unsure if that was a topic that you wanted to delve into with him. If anything, you needed to remember to distance yourself from the Mandalorian, to not let your emotions muddle your temporary partnership. 

“Do I need a reason to hate them?” 

He fixed his expressionless gaze on you, like he knew there was more to the story and he had all the time in the galaxy to wait for you to continue. You weren’t sure why, but you took a deep breath, steeling yourself and let the words spill out. 

“When I was twelve, the Empire all but destroyed my homeworld. It was a hopeless situation, but my people fought back anyway. We lost, of course, and after Imperial forces occupied my city, they decided we needed to be disciplined, taught a lesson. In a rather cruel act of ingenuity, they delegated the bulk of our punishment to the Hutt Cartel. The Hutts came in and took whoever they wanted and made slaves out of my people.” The last part was always the hardest to admit and you did your best to keep your voice steady, “My mother was young and beautiful, and she went willingly because it gave my brother and I a chance to escape. Her sacrifice is the only reason I’m still here.”

“Did you ever look for her? Your mother?” Even through the vocoder, you heard his voice break softly over his last word. There was a sadness that radiated off of him through the Force that resonated with something deep inside of you. It made the next part even harder to say.

“No. I didn’t have to. She died a few months later.” You cast your gaze away from his, unable to meet his stare any longer. Suddenly the bit of dirt left over from Felucia under your thumbnail became the most interesting thing in the world. “We both felt it happen,” you added quietly, finally looking back up at him. Even without being able to see Mando’s face beneath the visor, you could feel his puzzled stare. 

“Through the Force?” he suggested as an explanation. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, “My younger brother was also able use the Force.”

“Was?” It was framed as a question, but he stated it if he already knew the ending to that story too. 

You nodded solemnly before adding, “He was part of Operation Ringbreaker on Xagobah. Never came back.”

“He was in the Rebellion?”

“We both were. Rhys flew X-wings, and I worked in reconnaissance.” 

“You were a rebel spy?” He asked and you thought you heard a hint of incredulity in the otherwise steady timbre of his modulated voice. A small smile crept up despite the heaviness of the conversation. For the first time since your brother’s death, you were enjoying giving these bits of yourself that you’d desperately kept hidden to someone else. It was almost cathartic, and it was so easy to share with him that you didn’t even think twice about it. 

It was also nice to think that you’d impressed a Mandalorian.

“You remember that mind trick I told you about? Let’s just say it made me quite useful to the Rebellion – even if they had no idea why I was so good at my job.” You laughed, a real, full-bodied laugh, when he shook his head at your in response. “You know, for such a quiet guy, you’re full of questions tonight, Mando.” 

There was a long silence and you worried you’d pushed too far with your quip. Maybe he wouldn’t talk to you anymore. That really shouldn’t have cut as deep as it did, and your smile fell from your face. 

But then he leaned towards you, just enough for you to notice, and as if you were two opposite magnets unable to resist the pull of the other, you felt took a step closer to him without ever making the conscious decision to do so.

“I can’t help it. You… you interest me,” he stumbled over his words, rather unlike himself. It was a simple enough statement, but there was something resigned about the way he said it, as if he wished it weren’t true, but it was anyway. Maybe you weren’t the only one who was getting too comfortable with your newfound partnership. You smiled even as you tried to ignore the tight feeling in your chest. “And I’m sorry that all of that happened to you,” he offered, and you sensed something mournful in the otherwise impassive Mandalorian. 

“It’s okay.” You looked back out at the floating lights, suddenly overwhelmed by his gaze, and tried to swallow the lump in your throat. “The Imps did a lot worse to a lot of other people.”

“That doesn’t make your pain any less real.” For someone who never seemed to say much, what he did say had weight to it. You had to close your eyes to keep the tears from falling down your face; there was no way in hell you’d cry in front of a Mandalorian. 

“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time today,” you whispered. You faced him again and sought out his masked eyes as you apologized. It was a practice your father instilled in you as a young girl.

“Don’t be. I get it,” He placed a gloved hand on his cuirass just over his heart, an expression you found much sweeter than he probably intended. His hand fell and he gave a humorless laugh, “Hell, until very recently, I refused to ever use droids. I trusted them about as much as you trust Hutts.”

“What changed?”

“That’s a long story,” he sighed. 

“Maybe one day you’ll share your stories with me,” you suggested boldly. You knew without a doubt that this Mandalorian understood loss and pain just as you did; you could hear it in everything he said and everything he didn’t. As much as you wanted to distance yourself from him, you wanted to know everything about him and his foundling. 

He appeared to consider your proposition, before giving you a slight nod and what you thought was a muffled _maybe_. Finally, you felt all of the day’s tension dissipate and a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you watched the kid hunt solbugs until he’d had his fill.

As the Mandalorian tucked the Child into his carrier for the night, you dug around a few well-stocked storage cabinets until you found a couple of dehydrated portion packs. After preparing the night’s fare, a task that took very little work considering the nature of the meal, you brought a helping of the reconstituted food to Mando in the cockpit. While you couldn’t be sure, he once again seemed surprised at your offering of food.

“Figured you’d want something more substantial than solbugs,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’ll take mine in my room.”

You were halfway over the threshold when Mando called after you. “How come you never ask?” That caught your attention. You looked back at him, taking in his armored visage. He didn’t have to clarify; you knew what he meant. 

“Why would I?”

“Everyone does.”

You turned so that you faced him fully and moved a few steps closer to the pilot’s chair. You chose your next words carefully, not wanting to upset your newfound peace. 

“If you wanted to show your face to me, you would. It’s none of my concern neither if you do or don’t, nor the reasons why you choose not to do so. I’m not exactly familiar with the tenets of the Mandalorian creed, but I know enough to assume it has to do something with your beliefs,” you said, hoping you wouldn’t offend him in any way. When he nodded in response you continued. “I respect that. I respect you. So, I have no reason, no right, to ask.”

“Thank you,” he said after a long moment.

“I take it, that’s not the usual response.”

“Not exactly.”

“Honestly? I’m happy just to have met you, Mando.” You gave him a small smile, hoping it offered some comfort. Then you hurried out of the cockpit, having decided you’d admitted far too much for one evening. Even if it did feel like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

When you woke the next morning, Mando was long gone. You found the baby still snoozing safely in his carrier in the cockpit, but he seemed to sense your presence. He woke with a delighted trill, his animated face hiding none of his excitement.

“Good morning, little one,” you cooed softly at him as you picked him up. “What do you say we find something to eat?”

His big eyes blinked up at you a few times before he presented you with a toothy grin that you took as an affirmative.

While the Child munched on nuna jerky (which he was noticeably less excited about than he was hunting solbugs the night before), you opted for a pack of dried meiloorun fruit you’d found in the bottom of one of the storage containers. 

You decided to open the ship’s hatch to let some fresh air in and after punching in a few different combinations on the control panel, you finally managed to cancel part of the _Crest’s_ security protocols and lower the ramp. Even though you weren’t particularly fond of Nal Hutta’s sticky heat, it was better than breathing in recycled air all day. 

As the toddler ate his morning meal, seemingly insatiable, you started a well-practiced exercise routine you’d been taught as a padawan. The combination of powerful fighting moves and meditative breathing was meant to bring harmony between the body and mind as well as prepare you for combat. You quickly felt the effects of your physical exertions and the planet’s balmy climate, and you stripped of a couple of extra layers to cool your feverish skin.

It wasn’t long after that when you noticed the kid watching you intently, his breakfast long forgotten. He waddled up to you and made a few chirping noises before levitating your package of fruit to you from across the hold.

“Are you showing off?” you questioned playfully, “Or just trying to make sure I eat? Either way, good job.” You tore off a piece of the orange fruit, popping it exaggeratedly into your mouth before handing him a small piece. He sniffed it curiously before taking a few test bites. “You don’t like fruit, you little carnivore? How about we get some practice in instead?” 

His large ears perked up at that, so you set the food aside and picked up a few of the objects he seemed to prefer practicing with, the old valve cap and a metal ball bearing from the control panel being his favorites.

After it was clear he wasn’t having much trouble levitating small objects, you decided to test his new skills. Putting a few paces between the kid and yourself, you tried tossing the valve cap toward him, hoping he would catch it in midair. 

You cringed every time he startled at the cap clattering against the metal flooring of the ship. 

Taking a slightly different approach, you demonstrated how he should catch it before it hit the ground, if only to spare yourself from the face he made every time it hit the floor. You were just about to give up on the exercise when he finally caught on, carefully stopping the valve cap before it crashed to the ground again and levitating it in front of him.

“Yes!” you shouted, effectively causing him to lose focus. The cap fell, but he gurgled happily at your excitement. “You did it!” you cheered at him as you picked the toddler up and held him to your chest. 

There was something so satisfying in watching him learn to use his powers that you just couldn’t help your elation and you recalled something your master said to you once: _there was no greater responsibility than teaching, no sweeter joy than watching a padawan succeed_. You hadn’t thought much of it when you were thirteen, but you found you now shared her sentiments wholeheartedly. 

… . …

As it turned out, the bounty commissioned by the Hutt Cartel was actually two. A pair of smugglers on their payroll were skimming more than their fair share off the top of the crime syndicate’s earnings and the Hutts wanted to deal with them personally. For Din, that meant all he had to do was deliver them alive but in carbonite. Just another day’s work as far as he was concerned. 

His contact made it seem like the swindlers weren’t aware that the Hutts had made them (although it really should be common knowledge that it’s never a good idea to double cross a Hutt) and from what intel he could dig up from a couple of talkative locals they were both still going about their business as usual in Bibousa. Hopefully, that meant they’d have no idea he was coming and he’d be done with this job by the day’s end.

By midday, he’d tracked the wanted smugglers to a warehouse in an industrial district and just as he was beginning to think the job was too easy, he discovered why it paid so well. The two robust near-humans were well-trained fighters. As he brawled with the brothers, he cursed the fact that they had to be captured live, deciding he’d rather attempt to wrangle wild wampas. 

In the end, Din subdued them both with only a few superficial wounds of his own and some _minor_ property damage to the adjacent storage facility. Once they were in binders, he hired a cheap speeder to take the three of them back to his ship where it waited for him just outside the city.

When they reached the _Crest_ , he paid the driver, who wasted no time rushing off once his credits were in hand, and hauled the two bounties into the ship’s hull. The slightly smaller of the two was still unconscious from a particularly hard blow to the skull, but the larger smuggler was struggling against Din. 

At least he was until you dropped down from the second level of the ship wearing little more than a pair of leggings and a breast band. The humidity had left you flushed with a slight sheen to your skin and the bounty seemed to forget his precarious situation at the sight of you.

The near-human whistled lowly, leering at you, “Look at that. The Mando’s got himself quite the pretty little whore stashed away this junk-heap of a ship. Wouldn’t have taken your kind for the type but look at her – who could blame you?” He bared his pointed teeth as he snarled at you.

Before Din could say anything, you were stalking towards the bounty. He watched you curiously; the dark look in your eyes was almost seductive as you scanned the man’s body. He would’ve been disturbed had he not quickly realized you were sizing him up. Hunting your prey. 

The unsuspecting smuggler relaxed, smirking at the woman before him. Din, on the other hand, took a step back to give you space as he waited to see what you would do. The man was more than a head taller than you and easily twice your size across, but you caught him completely off guard. He watched with wide eyes and raised brows as you slammed his body into the carbon freezer with a few quick moves and much more force than strictly necessary. Rousing from his trance, he started the machine before the bounty could utter another obscene comment at you. 

“Creep,” you spat venomously at the frozen face before turning back to Din, a fiery look still ablaze in your eyes. Even without seeing you in action, he knew you were a capable woman. It was evident in the way you held yourself. But finally getting a glimpse of your strength was something else. You were impressive. Admirable.

 _Alluring_. 

The thought invaded his mind before he could stop it and he was extremely grateful his helmet covered his face, all but certain his expression would betray the way you’d affected him.

“Looks like you had a productive morning,” you retorted, unaware of his racing thoughts. “What are you going to do with this guy?” You motioned towards the near-human lying prone near his feet. He’d forgotten about the second bounty.

“Uh,” he started, clearing his throat before continuing, “Same as his friend here. Give me a minute.” He moved around you to rearrange the carbon stacks. “Where’s the kid?” asked, trying to distract himself.

“Napping. We trained for a bit until he fell back asleep.” As you spoke, he could feel your eyes watching his every move. “He’s determined to levitate everything on this ship now. Might have to start tying things down.”

“Good,” he said, dragging the unconscious body across the cargo hold and into the freezer, “Thanks for practicing with him.”

“Of course,” you replied, “I honestly enjoy it. It’s been a while since I’ve been around another Force-user. And it’s nice to be useful again.”

“Good,” he repeated as he faced you again. And then, as he seemed to want to do around you, the words were falling out of his mouth before he could stop himself, “We have time before I need to drop them off on Nar Shaddaa. Want to spar?” 

He shouldn’t have asked. The longer you stood across from him, your calculating eyes sizing him up, the more Din regretted asking you to spar. He felt way too hot under the Beskar and it wasn’t from the swampy air around him. 

“You think you can handle me?” you asked teasingly. You circled him slowly, but he never took his eyes off you.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “but no Force tricks.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you smirked, “I’ll go easy on you. This time.”

In an instant you were on him. You aimed for the soft parts of him, expertly avoiding the Beskar. He was quick to block you, smacking your hands away before you could land a hit. He moved to trip you, but his attempt went unnoticed as you dodged him with light footsteps. Just from your opening attack it was apparent that you weren’t going to hold anything back. Neither was Din.

There was nothing violent about the way you fought, and it was unlike any adversary he’d ever faced before. Every step was graceful, every attack fluid and smooth, and every block looked effortless. There was a practiced ease and each move flowed right into the next. But after the first time you knocked him flat on his back, he learned there was also a raw power behind your every move. He hadn’t underestimated you. You just hadn’t revealed your true strength. 

“Did the rebels teach you how to fight?” Din asked in between punches.

“No,” you huffed out as you blocked his fist, “Master Zarichi took my brother and I in after our parents died. She protected a few Force-sensitive kids like us, Empire orphans mostly.” You lunged toward him, landing a solid strike on his exposed side and earning an exasperated grunt from him. “Then she taught us how to protect ourselves, with and without the Force.”

You struck up a defensive stance, ready for his counterattack. He surprised you by diving towards you with his full bodyweight with enough force to knock you over. You resolved to take him with you, grabbing on to the collar of his cuirass with one hand and a pauldron with the other. The pair of you toppled onto the soft grass and for a moment he thought he’d won the round until you hooked a leg around his waist and leveraged yourself so you could roll him over onto his back. Straddling him with your knees on either side of his waist, you pinned his arms above his head just to be safe. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he let you do that last part without much resistance. 

“Clearly you learned to fight from the Mandalorians,” you stated, your shaky breaths betraying how much you’d exerted yourself. 

“What gave it away,” he said sarcastically, not expecting an answer and mostly in an attempt to hide his nervousness. 

“You fight with your body. If you fought like this without your armor, you’d be dead in a heartbeat, Mando,” you said with a breathy laugh. When you released his wrists and pushed yourself off him, he felt your absence immediately. You held out a hand, he took it without hesitation, and you pulled him up so that you were sitting next to each other. “And it comes naturally to you so clearly you learned young.”

“I was a foundling once too,” he said, thinking about the sleeping baby back on the ship. You looked at him with imploring eyes, and your sympathetic expression told him it was safe to share more. You’d trusted him the night before with your secrets. Din felt he could trust you with his. “I lost my parents when I was young, during the Clone Wars, but the Mandalorians saved me. They raised me as one of their own. Trained me in the fighting corps, gave me a purpose.”

“I guess you and I are more alike than we thought,” you said after a quiet moment. 

“Yeah, we are,” he said quietly. A silence settled over the two of you as you sat in the grassy marsh, with only the sounds of some native creature chirping in the distance. “I’m happy to have met you, too,” he finally added, recalling your conversation the night before. The thought tumbled out of his mouth, slipping past the protection of his helmet, and, despite his soft whisper, he knew you heard him. A small smile played at the corners of your lips. Neither of you said anything for a long time and Din was grateful for your lack of questions, your understanding. 

“You know what always makes me feel better when I start thinking about…everything?” you asked a few minutes later.

“What’s that?”

“Going another round.” You grabbed his hand as you stood and pulled him to his feet, giving him no choice but to continue sparring. Not that he would’ve said no.

A couple of hours later, the unlikely trio stepped out of a docking bay and into the middle of a buzzing city center. Sentient creatures of all species crowded the streets, from Hutts and humans to Rodians and Trandoshans. Most went about their business, popping into shops, haggling with food vendors, or ducking into seedy cantinas, but plenty of others lingered on street corners and just inside the mouths of dark alleyways, clearly waiting for trouble. Those were the ones who seemed to watch the Mandalorian’s every move. 

Suddenly conscious of the woman walking next to him and the small bundle in your arms, Din’s hand moved to rest on the grip of his blaster, though he wanted to think it was more out of habit than any sense of fear. It didn’t matter anyway. A quick glance in your direction told him it was unnecessary as you looked completely at ease amongst the hustle and bustle of the Smuggler’s Moon. Besides, you’d more than proven yourself capable of handling any threats that might come your way. 

In the brief moment Din had distracted himself with thoughts of your earlier sparring match, you’d said something to him, and he’d completely missed it. “What was that?”

“I just thought since you don’t really need us to meet with your client, I might check out a few of the shops,” you suggested. “I’d also really rather avoid hanging out with any members of the Hutt Cartel,” you added, your voice a bit quieter than it was a moment before. 

He was about to say that the three of you should stick together when the Child let out an excited chirping noise and tried to squirm his way out of your arms. “Oh, I don’t think so,” you said, tightening your hold on the struggling baby, “I know it’s exciting here, but you’re not walking around town on your own.” You looked over at Mando as you joked, “Your father would hunt me down and kill me if something happened to you.” 

You moved the Child to one hip and dug around for something in your satchel, pulling a worn shawl out of your bag. With a bit of maneuvering, you wrapped it around yourself so that it held the baby tightly against your chest, almost like a _birikad_. Amazingly, the Child stopped fidgeting and settled against you happily. Din was taken aback at how much the action impressed him. He was also surprised at his certainty that the kid was perfectly safe with you. Any doubts he might’ve had disappeared somewhere between Felucia and Nar Shaddaa.

“Sure,” he answered, “Meet back at the _Crest_ in an hour. Then we can get out of Hutt Space for good.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said with a smile before veering off towards one of the shops.

Passing a couple of tipsy Twi’leks on his way in, Din entered a sleazy lounge owned by the Hutts who’d contracted his services. Upbeat music immediately assaulted him and purposefully drowned out the conversations of the bar’s patrons. Wordlessly, a young man standing guard by a roped off area waved Din over and led him to a back room where two Hutts were waiting for him along with a group of their associates and attendants. 

“ _Achuta, Mando_ ,” the larger, gray Hutt said, gesturing dramatically in Din’s direction. His rotund, slug-like body rolled with the sudden movement. 

“Greetings, Mandalorian,” a silver-plated protocol droid shuffled up to Din, bowing slightly in acknowledgement, “I am TC-70, translator for the exalted Zergga Urvoac of the Hutt Clan. I will be facilitating today’s meeting.”

“Great,” Din deadpanned. When the droid turned to relate his comment to his master, Din sighed, “Don’t tell him that. Just, tell him I have his bounties in carbonite. Docking bay E-7. It’s the _Razor Crest_.”

The droid jerked forward in what Din assumed was supposed to be a nod before translating his instructions to the Hutts. He let the droid speak for him, having not practiced his huttese in some time. Any dealing with a Hutt was uncertain from the beginning and he figured it would be best not to offend his clients. When the droid finished speaking, Zergga waved a short arm towards a Rodian woman standing amongst his attendants and she immediately rushed off.

“A crew has been dispatched to offload the carbonite blocks from your ship,” the droid said to Din. “Zergga would like to offer you his gratitude for apprehending the traitors. You have been of great service to the Hutt Clan.”

“Look, tell your boss I just need to get paid,” Din inquired, hoping to speed this whole interaction along, “But, say it nicely.”

“Of course, Mandalorian.” Din had a suspicion the droid was adept at rephrasing translations to keep his Hutt master happy.

“ _Jee andoba choba che ta, Murishani_.” Zergga’s low voice rumbled deep from his belly as he spoke. “ _Meendeya hees naga ta creeda_ ,” he added with a rolling laugh, his yellow eyes narrowing at Din.

“I have another offer for the bounty hunter,” the droid translated, “Methinks he needs the credits.”

“Payment for this job will be plenty.” It might’ve been tempting in the past, but Din had other places to be than in the Hutt’s deep pockets. He’d also been replaying your conversation from the night before in his head all day. You’d confided with him about something so deeply personal and he desperately needed to feel like he earned that trust. He gritted out a terse _thank you_ as a humanoid attendant stepped forward with a decent sized package. He opened the lid, revealing the credits agreed upon for the job, and then handed it over to Din. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he quipped without bothering to hide his sarcasm.

… . …

You were waiting in the main hold with the Child when Mando finally returned to the _Crest_. The kid waddled up to him with his arms stretched overhead, silently asking to be held. You’d noticed he did that whenever Mando left him, even if it was just for a short time. Unsurprisingly, he obliged and gently lifted the kid to cradle him in his arms. You smiled to yourself unsure if you’d ever get used to the sight of the indomitable bounty hunter tending to his sweet baby with such care and adoration. 

You’d gotten an up-close look at his warrior side earlier that day. He was powerful and agile, and dangerously efficient. You’d learned firsthand that he was skilled in combat and deadly in his tenacity. For every time you’d managed to get one up on him, he knocked you down even harder. Sparring with him was a welcome challenge. It was _exhilarating_. 

Yet moments like this one reminded you of Mando’s softer side, a part of him you highly doubted most people were lucky enough to witness.

“How’d things go with the Hutts?” you asked from your perch upon a few staked cargo containers as you attempted to focus back on the present.

“Well enough,” he replied while keying in a code on his left vambrace’s control panel. The ship’s hatch closed behind him and he moved closer to you. “But that’s the last time I work with the Hutts.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked, wondering if he was implying what you thought he was.

“I mean we’re done with them. For good.”

“You don’t have-”

“Nonnegotiable,” he interrupted. “Besides, we’ve got better things to do.”

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “I, um, I appreciate that.” The sincerity behind gesture meant more to you than you knew how to articulate. Mando didn’t owe you anything. Yet his promise to eschew the Hutts suggested a shift in your partnership. Or, at least you hoped it did.

He nodded in response and dropped his gaze to your hands where you were absentmindedly twirling a palm-sized datacron. “You guys find anything interesting?” 

“I don’t know,” you held the polyhedron object up for him to inspect, “I found this old datacron. I don’t even think it works.”

“Looks like a piece of junk.”

“That’s what the old lady at the shop said. She let me take it for a few measly credits.” You ran a finger across its sharp angles and edges. “It seemed important at the time.”

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I just felt drawn to it, like I needed it.” It was the strangest thing. You’d been rummaging through old electronic parts in a secondhand shop, hoping to find something you could use to upgrade your old datapad, when you’d found it at the bottom of the scrap heap. Without even thinking it over, you’d hastily purchased it. Shaking your head, you slipped it back into your bag and hopped off the containers. “So, think we’ll actually make it to Vrogas Vas this time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a Translation
> 
> Birikad: baby carrying harness
> 
> Huttese Translations
> 
> Achuta: hello
> 
> Jee andoba choba che ta, Murishani. Meendeya hees naga ta creeda: I have another offer for the bountry hunter. Methinks he needs the credits. *I attempted to translate this myself so please don't judge my non-existent huttese too harshly.
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thanks for reading the latest chapter and thank you to everyone who's supported this fic so far! I'd love to know if you're enjoying the story so far so please chat with me in the comments :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	4. Disruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a peaceful few days aboard the _Razor Crest_ , the trio finally lands on Vrogas Vas and the barren, desert planet is full of unknown dangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn’t do this two weeks in a row, but this is another long one as our trio is moving into the next phase of their adventure. Bonus points* to whoever finds the Obi Wan quote from Ep. III (*the bonus points are love). Blink and you’ll miss it.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** maybe some angst with copious amounts of fluff (these two are all about the hurt/comfort), canon-typical violence.

You were meditating again, and Din was starting to think it was your natural state. It was how he found you in the jungle and how you spent a good portion of you time on board the _Crest_. He watched as you sat perfectly still in the copilot’s chair, your only movement the slow rise and fall of your chest with each measured breath. As Din peered at you over his shoulder and through the corner of his visor, he couldn’t help but think it made you a rather agreeable passenger.

Partner?

Or maybe friend?

Things had gotten complicated in the short time you’d known each other, and he wasn’t quite sure what you were to him at this point.

Most importantly, the Child liked you. And he found your meditations absolutely fascinating. You’d had a few opportunities to practice together, but you were justifiably hesitant to teach him anything while the ship was in flight, which Din agreed was probably a wise decision. More often than not, the kid would sit across from you, his entire focus trained on you, until his own eyes fell shut. Since leaving Nar Shaddaa a few days prior, it was becoming something of a routine. While Din wasn’t sure of the degree to which he was meditating or simply mimicking you, the little troublemaker seemed to be better for it either way. He’d been noticeably less fussy on the long flight and much less prone to mischief.

A flash of green in his periphery alerted Din that the Child had finally woken up from his nap and crawled out of his makeshift container. He toddled across the cabin, headed straight for the copilot’s seat, and before Din could stop him, he was scaling the side of the chair and plopping himself into your lap. He expected the kid’s sudden appearance to startle you, but you didn’t seem to mind. The only indication that you noticed his presence was that your hands came to rest at the baby’s sides, helping to support him as he stared up at you with wide eyes full of wonder. It struck Din that your movement might have been an unconscious one, but the gesture did something to him, nonetheless. It pulled at something buried deep within him that he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge.

In the days since leaving Hutt Space, the three of you had settled into a quite existence. Din spent most of his time in the cockpit, alternating between navigating the ship, entertaining the kid, and stealing quick naps when he had the chance. It was much easier to rest with you to help watch the baby and he was quickly becoming accustomed to your presence on his ship. You often accompanied him in the main cabin, sometimes speaking softly about whatever thought happened to cross your mind, other times answering his endless questions about the Force and the Jedi the best you could. Occasionally, you’d venture to ask him a question or two and usually he found himself compelled to respond. Then there were moments like this one, where an agreeable, easy silence would settle between you as the ship sped across the galaxy.

As he watched your thumb idly stroke the baby’s back, intuitively seeking to soothe him, he realized that in just a few short hours the _Crest_ would drop from hyperspace into the starsystem you suspected held the answers you sought, effectively disrupting this momentary peace, and you’d be one step closer to reuniting with your master. To parting ways with Din and his foundling.  
Beneath his helmet, his lips pressed into a slight frown and his eyes fell to the cabin floor.

“What’s wrong?”

His gaze snapped back to your face. Your bright eyes were open now and boring into his visor. It was like you could sense his inner turmoil. Maybe you could.

“Nothing,” he said, cursing the slight edge to his voice. “We’re almost to Vrogas Vas,” he added, shifting the subject away from himself.

“About time,” you said with a sigh of relief. “Are you as excited as I am to finally get off this ship?” you asked, addressing the baby still perched in your lap. He cooed happily in response, his ears lifting curiously at the sound of your voice, before looking across the cabin at Din.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too, kid,” he answered his silent question, ignoring the pit in his stomach.

The _Crest_ broke Vrogas Vas’ atmosphere shortly thereafter. The ship’s readouts indicated that the air was breathable and that was about the only favorable feature of the barren planet. Defined by vast expanses of sepia desert flats and sandy dunes, disrupted only by the occasional bottomless gorge lined with dusty red rocks, it looked practically inhospitable. There was no sign of life – sentient or otherwise.

“How’d you even find this place?” Din asked you.

“Well, the rebels built a refueling base here during the war, but it’s been abandoned as far as I can tell. No need to keep something like that up and running out here,” you explained. “After I discovered the records of the sanctum, I was able to convince an old contact working for the New Republic to share the planet’s _somewhat_ classified coordinates.”

“Somewhat? he asked with an accusatory tilt of his head in your direction. “Let me guess: mind trick?”

“Very funny, but no. Believe it or not some people just like me,” you retorted. “Anyway, I assumed the only reason the Alliance even learned about this planet was because someone knew about the old Jedi temple that used to be here. That kind of information was destroyed or sealed off by the Empire, but someone must’ve remembered from way back when.”

“That what we’re looking for?”

“No, that’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. What we’re looking for is much older than the Jedi.” Without even turning around he could hear the smile on your face; your excitement was palpable.

“Legend has it that there’s also an ancient sanctum deeply connected to the Force. Might be why the Jedi also built a temple here. There’s supposed to be some sought after artifact — something powerful and deeply connected to the Force — hidden there, and I think that’s what Master Zarichi was looking for.” Suddenly you appeared at his side, leaning over the back of his seat, and you held out your datapad for him to see. “This is the closest estimate I have of the sanctum’s location.”

Nodding, he manually adjusted the ship’s destination, heading south towards one of the larger canyons.

With no safe way to descend into the narrow ravine itself, neither with the ship nor on foot, Din reluctantly put the Crest down in a valley at the mouth of the canyon. By his rough estimate it would take at least a couple of days to trek to the region where you hoped to find this mysterious sanctum.

Assuming it was still there.

Gathering what gear you could carry between you, the three of you set off, trading the security of the _Razor Crest_ for the unknown of Vrogas Vas.

“Well, I wasn’t part of any of the big battles or major victories or anything exciting like that. I joined a smaller band of rebels. We focused on reconnaissance, so we did our best work away from the main action. Aside from information drops and the occasional holo, we never had contact with Alliance leadership.”

The three of you had been walking for a few of hours, following the weak river into the canyon. You’d covered quite a bit of ground in a short amount of time, but the Child had decided he was bored of riding along in his floating carrier. After a few sad chirps, Din acquiesced, letting him toddle alongside the adults, which earned him a snicker form you. The sun was dipping below the horizon to his back and he figured you wouldn’t make it much further that night anyway.

The kid slowed the group’s pace enough to actually hold a conversation, and Din had gotten you to open up about your time in the Rebellion with minimal prompting.

“And your brother?”

“There was a small squadron of X-wing starfighters at our base. And by small, I mean like four X-wings, at the most,” you answered with a laugh. “At first Rhys worked with me but once he started flying it was all he wanted to do. Gods, you should’ve seen the way his face light up the first time he jumped in an X-wing. He loved that more than anything. He appreciated the Force, but he didn’t really have the temperament to really commit to training. He was too hotheaded, too cocky.” You looked away from him and seemed to disappear into yourself. “We tried to stay together as much as possible. But sometimes our missions took us to opposite ends of the galaxy. I wasn’t with him when– when it happened.”

“I think I would’ve liked him,” Din offered. He stopped walking to face you, but you only gave him a rueful smile.

“It think he would’ve liked you too, Mando,” you said more to yourself than him.

He was so focused on the moment, so wrapped up in your stories, that he missed the telltale sound of claws scratching the planet’s stone surface, missed the low, hungry growl.

A blinking red light on his HUD alerted him of the approaching heat signatures at the last minute and he turned on his heel just as an enormous feline-like creature leapt at him.

He ignited his flame thrower just in time.

The predator let out a wailing howl and retreated, only to be flanked by two more, twelve red eyes leering at him in the evening light. The three hulking nexu barred rows of sharp teeth at him, their quills raised like hackles, ready to attack.

“Get the kid,” he barked at you, “On my mark, run and don’t look back.”

Never taking his eyes off the creatures, he listened to your every movement as you tucked the Child back into his carrier and sealed it. He took stock of the pack of nexu, cursing himself for letting his guard down. For putting his foundling and you in danger.

“Ready?” he growled. He carefully watched the leader of the pack take a measured step toward him, it’s forked tailed flicking almost playfully, and he slowly unbuckled the strap of his Amban sniper rifle.

“Yes, but Mando-”

“Go!”

You sprinted off, pushing the hovering carrier to a safe distance, and he fired off his first round, disintegrating the largest nexu. Before he could reload, another one lunged, swiping at his Beskar cuirass with pointed talons. Electrocuting it with the double-ponged end of his rifle, the creature crashed to the ground, momentarily paralyzed, but not without knocking the rifle from his grip with a flailing paw. He hastily unsheathed his vibroblade and stabbed the creature, slicing its thick neck and ending its life.

He grabbed his rifle and turned his focus to the final nexu, freezing when he found the creature thrashing on the ground, gasping for breath. It was as if some invisible force was strangling it to death.

Which meant…

Panicked, he looked back to where you stood guarding the Child’s carrier. Even from a distance he could see your twisted face as you held out a shaky hand in front of you, slowly forming a fist. The creature’s whimpering suddenly ceased behind him, and you fell to your knees. Without even looking back at the animal, already knowing it was dead, Din dropped his weapons and ran to you.

“You okay?” he asked. He knelt next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, leveraging yourself against him as you rose to your feet. “I just- I’m not used to calling upon the darkside like that.”

He wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but he filed it away with his growing list of questions for a better time. He did, however, know that he did not like the sound of you using powers aligned with the darkside of anything. “Why did you do it? I had it under control.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did Mandalorian.” You were still teasing him; you couldn’t have been hurt too badly. “But it was ready to strike. I– I wasn’t going to let that thing kill you,” you added quietly as you ran a finger lightly across his new cuirass, tracing the scratch mark left by the nexu’s claws.

“It’s superficial. It’ll buff out.”

You smirked up at him. “I sure hope so. Wouldn’t want to damage the goods.” Din’s cheeks warmed beneath his visor at your words and your smile vanished, as if you only belatedly realized what you said. You took a step back from him, moving to check on the Child. When you opened the carrier, the baby let out a disgruntled noise as if to say he wasn’t happy being locked away during the action. Din suppressed a sigh and shook his head at him.

“What the hell are nexu doing on this godsforsaken planet?” he wondered, diverting the conversation as he picked up his abandoned gear.

“Vrogas Vas has no native species. Anything here was relocated on purpose, but for what purpose, I have no idea.” He followed your stare back to the two remaining bodies, your eyes lingering on the one he’d killed. “I’m starting to think you were going easy on me the other day, Mando.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Thank the maker.”

“C’mon,” he said, turning you away from the bloody scene with a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll keep going, just a little further. We’ll find somewhere safe to camp for the night.”

… . …

It was another hour before Mando declared an alcove next to the canyon wall and away from the river to be a safe spot to set up camp. It provided a bit of extra shelter, but the three of you were still very much exposed to the elements.

You dug out a few portion packs from your satchel and made one for the baby and another for yourself. After a moment of debate, you silently offered a pack to Mando, but he just shook his head and told you he’d take care of the kid. While you ate, he used the remaining fuel in his left vambrace to make a small fire, assuring you he had second flamethrower in his right one, just in case. You knew the Mandalorian was armed from head to toe from the first day you met, but the extent of which still managed to surprise you. 

“You’re practically a walking armory,” you goaded, hoping to resume your usual banter. He hadn’t said much since the nexu encounter.

“Why don’t you carry a blaster?” he asked in return. He was tenderly feeding the kid pieces of the reconstituted food, but his tone was rough. That wasn’t the response you expected.

“I’ve used them in the past – they’re good in a pinch, I suppose – but overall I find them…so uncivilized. They’re not for me.”

“You wouldn’t have had to do what you did tonight.”

You made an uncertain noise as you chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Not my weapon preferred weapon of choice, that’s all.”

“What is?”

You opened your mouth to respond but said nothing, a lie dying on your tongue. You found you didn’t want to lie to him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him the truth either. Could you? “Would it make you feel better if I carried a blaster.”

It was his turn to be quiet.

The kid fell asleep almost as soon as he finished eating and Mando put him to bed in his carrier, gently tucking the blankets around his tiny body. Apparently, nighttime was significantly colder than daytime on the desert planet. “You should sleep too,” he suggested quietly as he watched the baby unconsciously settle into his blankets.

“Do you think we’ll be safe here?”

“Of course. I’ll stand watch.” He closed the carrier and turned his gaze to you. “I’ll protect you. Both of you.”

You’d been on your own for so long. No one had made it their duty to keep you safe in years and a warmth washed over you that you knew wasn’t from the flames before you. “Thank you,” you said through a lump in your throat. “Please wake me in a couple hours – I’ll take the second shift. And don’t even try to argue.”

“Deal,” he agreed after a drawn-out moment. “Now get some rest.”

Without another word, you curled up in front of the fire, using your overpacked satchel as a pillow, and drifted off, completely exhausted from the day’s adventures.

Mando made good on his promise and woke you a few hours later, though you suspect he let you sleep longer than you’d asked. You stretched your tired, achy limbs out in front of you and forced yourself into consciousness. Looking around the makeshift camp, you found that the fire had died to nothing more than low embers while you slept and also noticed a third empty portion pack.

“Did you eat?” you asked, your yawn not quite hiding your surprise.

“Yes.”

“You took your helmet off?”

“What do you think?” he replied sarcastically. Your bewildered expression prompted him to continue. “You were asleep.”

“What if–”

“You were out. At one point I thought you died.”

Your jaw dropped at his teasing. “I liked you better before you started making jokes, Mando.”

You weren’t sure why, but you thought he might’ve been smiling. Except, you now realized, you’d been so tired last night when you were eating that you hadn’t put much thought into how meals would work now that the three of you were without the protection of the Crest’s walls. Now, you felt terrible for your lack of consideration. “I could’ve woken up though.”

“Then you would’ve seen me.”

His response, delivered with a disarmingly calm tone, startled you. But before you could ask any more questions, he hauled you to your feet and shoved his Amban rifle in your hands.

Mando gave you a basic rundown on the rifle, showing you how to use the different modes as well as how to reload it. He even made you repeat his instructions back to him before you assured him you would be fine and he’d feel much less paranoid after a few hours of sleep. He scoffed at that, but reluctantly reclined against a boulder.

You thought he was asleep when he spoke again. “What you did earlier– What did you mean when you said you called upon the darkside?”

“Well, the Force allows me to do many things,” you started cautiously, “But some of those powers are more closely aligned with either the light or dark. Anything that hurts another being, comes only from darkness. Even if it is meant well.”

“The kid did that once.”

“Did what?” you asked incredulously, your grip on the rifle tightening.

“Not _that_ , "he sighed, "He thought a friend was hurting me and he– He used the Force to choke her. He might’ve killed her if I hadn’t–” He cut himself off, unable to finish the sentence. “That’s why I have to find the Jedi, so they can help him.”

You wished you could ease his anxieties. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. He’s young and doesn’t know any better, but he’s learning. The important thing is that you’re doing everything you can to help him, to show him what it means to be good.”

“I’m not–”

“You are,” you assured him, already knowing he was going to deny your assessment of him but desperately hoping he’d believe you, “I know you are.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting too,” you affirmed. An image of the Mandalorian battling the nexu flashed in your mind. You had seen something dark in the bounty hunter as he took on the predators, decimating them with practiced ease as he was trained to do. He was a warrior, that you were certain of, but the man before you was also so much more than that. Even if he didn’t see it in himself. “I know that anyone who cares and protects a child in need like you do is a good man.”

He was quite for a long time and for a moment you thought he might’ve finally fallen asleep, unable to see his face behind the helmet.

“This is the way,” he mumbled through the vocoder.

Not quite understanding his meaning, you went for something simpler. “Rest, Mando.”

He sighed again as he repositioned himself, folding his hands over his middle. It didn’t take long for his breathing to even out and you heard a quiet, distorted snoring sound coming from beneath his helmet. You smiled to yourself; it’d been a long day for him too, and you were glad he was finally resting.

Your watch was quiet and uneventful, as was the most of the day’s trek. Early on, the canyon valley narrowed drastically and suddenly, and you found yourselves squeezing through tight slot canyons, clambering over fallen boulders twice your size, and occasionally having to wade into the river for lack of dry ground. The hike between the towering red rock walls was much more strenuous than that of the gently sloping valley from the previous day and your progress slowed considerably.

As the sun reached its zenith, violent rust colored clouds closed off the blue sky, shrouding you in an eerie darkness. Still, you continued your steady march forward for a long while after that. You were starting to fear that your companion was unbothered by the change in weather and that he would want to keep going until nightfall. Just as you were about to point out the rapidly cooling air and mounting static charge, Mando stopped short. Your forward momentum nearly sent you crashing into him.

“What the-”

“Look.” He pointed towards two young children playing by the water’s edge, squealing as they splashed each other. It was the older of the two, a young Togruta girl, who noticed your trio first. She offered a tentative wave that you returned, hoping you wouldn’t startle her. Instead she shouted something to her younger friend and the two took off running.

“That was…odd,” you said with a shake of your head. You almost thought you were imagining the girls, but you knew Mando saw them too.

“There must be a village nearby.” He started walking again, the hovering carrier trailing diligently behind him. When you didn’t immediately follow, he looked back at you over his shoulder. “You want to be stuck out here in the rain all night?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit,” you said, jogging to catch up with him.

As you rounded another bend in the canyon, small village set deep into the red rock walls appeared before you. Steps carved into the stone led to dozens of dwellings sculpted from the planet itself. A few people bustled around in anxious excitement over the coming storm, presumably making last minute preparations.

You spotted the children from earlier among them, noticing the little Togruta tug at the skirts of an older woman. She looked across the river towards you, Mando, and the Child and, waved you over.

“When my granddaughter said there were people approaching our village, I almost did not want to believe her,” she said with a kind smile. “We do not get many visitors here, not these days, but you are very welcome, of course.”

“That is kind of you. We’re very grateful to have found you when we did.”

“Very lucky too. You see, it does not rain often on our desert planet, but you do not want to be caught near the river when it does. We are very happy to offer you shelter until the storm passes.”

Thank you,” Mando said softly and you nodded your agreement.

“My name is Nin’ak, and this Ro.” She gestured to the girl peeking around her legs. “Do not let her sudden bout of shyness confuse you. Just moments ago, she was bursting with excitement at the prospect of guests.”

“Will they stay with us?” she asked, her eyes glued to the baby. He watched the interaction with great curiosity from the safety of his carrier but offered a small wave when the little girl smiled at him.

“Of course,” Nin’ak said to her granddaughter before turning back to you. “You’ll find we do not have much to provide you with, but I can offer warm food and a spare room that should suffice for the two of you and your child.”

“That’s more than enough, thank you.” You noticed Mando didn’t correct her assumption of your relation to each other and for some it ignited a small fire in your belly. You didn’t quite understand the sensation.

“Please, follow me,” she said, extending a hand towards the village.

The first raindrops fall as you ascended the stairs cut-out of the rock wall and ducked into the planet’s interior.

Nin’ak welcomed you into her humble dwelling built into the canyon wall. Ro bounded ahead of you, pointing out all the features of your sparsely furnished but cozy room, her previous bashfulness having disappeared. The young girl excitedly noted the refresher, the cots, the windows, and even demonstrated how to properly use the control panel on the wall.

“Thank you, Ro, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” you said, crouching to her level.

“You’re welcome.” She gave you a toothy smile. “Can I play with your baby?”

You looked at Mando over your shoulder, raising your brows in question. He nodded, and the Child squealed when he was freed from his carrier, happily running off after his new friend.

Standing, you moved to the small window overlooking the canyon. It had only been a few minutes since you stepped inside, but the dark clouds unleashed a violent storm on the planet. A torrential rain fell in sheets, pounding against the window and obscuring any view you might’ve otherwise had of the ravine. You felt Mando stand behind you, peering out at the rain through his visor.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen rain like this anywhere,” you mused, in awe of the force of the downpour.  
“It only rains a couple times a year, so when it does, it absolutely must rain enough to nourish the whole world for months after,” Nin’ak explained.

“Doesn’t look like it’s doing a very good job at that,” Mando quipped quietly so only you could hear. You elbowed him in the ribs anyway, jabbing him just underneath his armor where you knew there was nothing but soft padding protecting him. You tried to shoot him a look you hoped said _please don’t offend the old lady taking care of us_ , but you were certain he could see the smile you were struggling to hide. You turned back to the old woman, but if Nin’ak noticed your interaction, she didn’t say anything.

“As I said earlier,” she continued, “You are fortunate to have found us when you did. This canyon is known for violent floods – that is why we’ve built our settlement high into the walls above this rare fertile land near the river. It has been months since our last rain. The temperate season just began, you see, and it does not last long. So, I think you are also very fortunate to get to witness one of our beautiful storms.”

“Yeah, real lucky.”

That time you couldn’t stop the snort that escaped you.

Later that night, not long after the evening meal, the raging storm worsened, now accompanied by deafening thunder and bright flashes of lightning. Mando had shuttered the room, blocking out the bolts of lightning, but there was nothing he could do about the thunder and the baby was practically shaking in his floating carrier.

You watched, feeling helpless, as Mando sat on his cot, rocking the carrier with a gentle hand, trying desperately to explain the storm to him, to show him that is was nothing to fear.

After a little while, he realized his current tactic wasn’t going to work. Hoping to soothe the Child, he removed his pauldrons and cuirass before cradling his foundling against the softer fabric covering his chest. You thought your heart might burst at the gesture. The baby nuzzled into the juncture of his neck, and while his trembling finally stopped, he whimpered at every roll of thunder.

“You’re safe _ad’ika_ ,” he said softly, murmuring a string of sweet nothings, “I promise you.”

Feeling a strong desire to help, you crossed the room and gingerly sat on the cot next to Mando, searching for his eyes behind the visor, as if asking for permission to be so close to him. He nodded and you placed a gentle hand on the baby.

“I used to be scared of storms when I was little too,” you offered as you stroked the top of his fuzz-covered head and ears. Carefully, he lifted his head from Mando’s chest and looked at you with watery eyes as if just noticing that you’d joined them. One little fisted hand released its grip on Mando’s shirt and reached out towards you. You shifted a bit closer and held out your other hand for him. He grasped it with his three claws and held it to his tiny body, so that your hand rested against Mando’s chest.

Beneath your hand, you could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of the Mandalorian’s heart. You hoped the Child found it as comforting as you did.

Eventually, the thunder subsided just enough that the baby calmed down, and you prayed to whatever gods ruled that planet that the worst of the storm had passed for the night. The kid finally let go of you both and settled in Mando’s lap, leaning against his soft belly. He gurgled up at you and you thought it might’ve been part of a story.

“Is that so?” you asked with raised brows. He blinked up at you and gave a happy, bubbling laugh. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Not for the first time, he stretched a small hand out to the crescent moon you wore around your neck. Leaning a bit closer, you let him play with it. “Do you want to know something?” you asked him. You continued without waiting for a response. “This was my mother’s moon. She gave me this necklace so that I would always have a piece of her. So that I would never be scared.”  
Fumbling with the collar of his robes, he pulled on a cord wrapped around him that you’d never noticed before. With a cheery coo, he revealed a silver charm to you. You held it between two fingers, running the pad of your thumb over the skeletal creature.

“A mythosaur?” You addressed your question to Mando, and he nodded his confirmation. You handed the charm back to the baby and he stuck it in his mouth.

“I almost died a few weeks ago,” he started, and you felt yourself still at his words. “It was mine, but I gave it to him so the other _Mando’ade_ in my tribe would know he was under my protection and keep him safe when I was gone.”

You didn’t expect any further explanation, but Mando gifted it to you anyway. He went on to tell you the entire story of the battle on Nevarro, and you listened raptly, soaking up his every word. At some point, the kid drifted off to sleep, lulled by the deep baritone of his father’s voice.

Much later, you held the Child while the Mandalorian removed the rest of his armor. It was a strange sight, watching him shed his layer of Beskar, save for the helmet, and part of you felt as though you should’ve averted your gaze, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength to look away. Each piece was set aside with such reverence and the significance of the act of baring himself in this way was not lost on you.

When he finished, he took his tired foundling from your arms and carefully laid back on the cot, mindful not to wake the baby sleeping on his chest.

You turned off the lights, just as Ro had shown you earlier that evening, and crawled into your own cot. You laid facing Mando, though in the dark you were unable to make out more than a vague outline of his body, and were struck by the sudden urge to call out to him.

“Mando?” you whispered.

“Yes?” His voice was heavy, on the verge of sleep.

“Thank you.”

He turned towards you, the pillow crinkling under his helmet. “For what?”

“ _Everything_.”

You didn’t think you needed to clarify. In that moment, you felt at peace. Happy and content for the first time in decades.

You should’ve drifted off to a calm sleep, and maybe you did for a while. But at some point, you started to dream of your past. Although, dream was much too kind of a word. No, those weren’t dreams. They were _nightmares_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a Translations
> 
> Ad’ika: little one
> 
> Mando’ade: Mandalorians (pl) - sons and/ or daughters of Mandalore
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	5. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a powerful storm traps our heroes in a small village on Vrogas Vas, connections are made, trust is earned, and dangerous feelings grow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally – an update! And boy, is the yearning strong in this one. I’ve also come to the conclusion that this is one long hurt/comfort road trip across the galaxy and I love it. Also...I might be making up force stuff. Don’t @ me.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence during brief flashbacks.

Din woke with a start at the sound of you tossing and turning, practically thrashing against the thin mattress of your cot and completely tangled in your threadbare blanket. He found it odd but didn’t make a move to do anything until he realized you were also _crying_ in your sleep. Gently setting the sleeping baby down on his pillow, he jumped off his cot and knelt next to yours, hesitating for a brief moment before he placed a firm hand on your shoulder and tried to wake you from whatever nightmare plagued you.

Gasping for breath, you shot up so quickly that you almost smacked your head against his helmet. Even in the dim light of daybreak filtering in through the window, your scared eyes met his in that way that only you seemed to be able to do. Instinctively, you reached for him, taking hold of his bare hand. 

And that was when it happened.

The moment you touched him, the room around him was replaced by a series of rapidly shifting images: a battle, disrupter fire and plasma bombs raining down on a small city, a man struck down by Imperial troopers – a blaster shot to the heart – and a young girl crying over his limp body; a beautiful woman in white robes and chains carted off, a slimy Hutt appraising his prize as two desperate children screamed for her, a the same young girl and a slightly smaller boy; the two children again, alone and dirty and hungry, crouching in a dark alleyway, holding on to each other for their lives. 

_It was you_. 

You were the little girl.

Then, just as suddenly, he found himself in the cool interior of an Imperial starship. You were older now and running into blaster fire instead of away from it. The scene changed again, and he saw you slumped against a wall, desperately trying to reach a control panel above you, struggling to stand as a deep red stain blossomed on the front of your robes near your abdomen. Two stormtroopers, not unlike the ones from the first memory, rounded the corner and hauled you to your feet and drug you away. For once, you were too weak to fight back. In the next instant, you were strapped down to a cold metal table, an IT-O Interrogator hovering ominously above you. 

Then, finally, you were alone, kneeling in an empty bunkroom as silent sobs of anguish racked your body. Somehow, Din knew your brother was dead.

You ripped your hand out of his grasp and the connection severed. Eyes wide, tears streaming down your face, you tumbled off of the bed, pushing past him, and ran out of the room. 

Din sat on the edge of your cot and pulled off his helmet, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. What was usually his greatest shield against the world suddenly felt like it was suffocating him. The damp, cool air of the cavern-like room hit his face and rushed into his lungs but did nothing to calm him. Elbows resting on bent knees, he held his head in his hands and tried to steady his breathing, tried to process what he just saw.

He considered himself a humble man; he would be the first to admit that he did not understand how the Force worked. And yet, he knew that it was the Force that had connected the two of you just now. How else would he have seen those fleeting images of your past that comprised your present nightmares? 

He could place almost every scene from the stories you’d told him but seeing your trauma through your own eyes was overwhelming even to the battle hardened Mandalorian. Really, your nightmares weren’t so different from his own, but it was still unsettling to see it for himself. And the look on your face told him that he wasn’t meant to see into your mind – it felt like a violation. 

The Child stirred on the cot across from him and Din quickly replaced his helmet. He stood slowly, still stiff from sleep and shock. Taking his time, he meticulously moved about the small room as he put on his armor, carefully fastening his cape and pulling on his boots. He was stalling and he knew it, but he was completely unsure of what he should do next. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Hell, he spent most of his time alone and isolated in part so he wouldn’t have to deal with anything like this. Of course, what had just occurred was entirely extraordinary. Of that much, he was certain. His foundling cooed at him and his ears drooped sadly as he looked around the room. Din wondered if he was looking for you. 

“C’mon, kid,” he said, scooping the Child up and holding him to his chestplate, “Let’s go find her.”

As soon as he reached the last step that led to the cliffside village, the baby squirmed in his grasp, eager to be set free. Din set him on the rocky ground and he immediately took off, arms outstretched as he chased after a strange amphibian creature with at least six legs.

“Why the hell am I even surprised?” he sighed, shaking his head at the kid.

Once he was sure the toddler was fine on his own, Din turned his attention to where you’d settled on a large boulder near the river’s edge. If you’d noticed him as he approached you, you gave no indication of it. Your eyes remained trained on the rushing water before you. No longer a mere trickle, the rains had filled the river with a steadily flowing stream. And while the rain had stopped, at least for the moment, the storm lingered, the dark clouds overhead threatening to unleash a second downpour at any minute. 

You sat perfectly still in the dim light of the new day; shoulders tensed as you hugged your knees to your chest. It was almost as if you were trying to make yourself appear small. As Din watched you, he realized just how much of your pain you’d shared with him. It provoked something buried inside of him, and he had a sudden overwhelming desire to reassure you that he understood you. But how would he do that? Where would he even start? 

He was reminded of the night before when he told you about what happened on Nevarro. Finding the right words was difficult, almost painful, but sharing them was easy because it was you. For better or worse, he trusted you implicitly. 

In the end, the need to share these parts of himself with you, while an entirely new feeling for him, won out. 

He wanted – _needed_ – to give you that same gift you’d given him.

… . …

As you stared out at the river, light drizzle dampened your clothes and exposed skin and you absentmindedly wished that in your haste, you’d grabbed your spare robe. At least the storm had stopped. Otherwise you would’ve looked like the drowned loth cat you felt like. You were still reeling from your dream. Nightmares like those had been a common occurrence for years, but it’d been weeks since you’d last had one. Your mind had been relatively quiet since you met Mando and the Child. Still, they’d never been that vivid and violent before, and it left a dull ache in your chest. You suspected the severity of your nightmare had something to do with your proximity to the ancient sanctum, but that did little to quell your beating heart. The temple was a focal point for the Force – that must’ve been the explanation for the intensity of your dream. But the strange connection between you and Mando?

That you couldn’t even begin to explain.

You shivered when a piece of cold Beskar brushed your shoulder. You knew the chill that went up your spine wasn’t entirely from the dreary weather. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you turned to find Mando sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, his T-shaped visor trained on the river rapids.

“Does it work both ways?” he asked quietly. Even the modulator couldn’t hide the apprehension in his words. Brow creased, you stared at him as if hoping to discern his meaning from the expressionless helm. 

You still weren’t sure why the Force had decided to show him your nightmare. You knew he saw it all. You sensed his reaction to every memory that passed before his eyes; felt his shock and awe and terror. He shouldn’t have seen any of it, and you hated yourself for not being able to control the emotions from your nightmare. 

But there was something else to it too. If all of your years of training taught you one thing, it was that the Force never did anything without a purpose, as mysterious and baffling as that might be sometimes. No – you knew Mando was able to look into your consciousness because it was him. The Force wanted to connect you to this Mandalorian who you’d only just met, this man who was slowly making his way into your heart where you knew he didn’t belong.

Now, for whatever reason, he was asking if that connection through the Force could be reopened. 

“Does it work both ways?” Mando asked again, shifting towards you. This time when he spoke, he sounded more resolved, more determined. It struck you that there might be something he wanted you to see and the gesture caused your heart to swell until it suddenly felt too big for your own chest. While that wasn’t possible to recreate that spontaneous link, you supposed you could use the Force to look into his mind. You’d explained the technique to him before. Performed it on dozens of troopers and Imperials alike. But you didn’t think you could do that to _him_.

“It can, yes, in a way,” you finally answered, “But–”

Whatever protest you were going to make died on your lips as Mando pulled at the orange leather fingertips of one of his gloves until it slid off. Fresh tears formed in the corners of your eyes as he offered his hand, his mind, to you. 

Shaking your head, you tried to object. “I can’t–”

“Please.”

You couldn’t deny him. You started to reach out to him with a trembling hand but hesitated just as your fingertips brushed his. You didn’t need to touch him to see inside his mind. Surely, this was unnecessary? Moreover, you were certain you shouldn’t be able to see, let alone touch, even a sliver of his golden skin. Still, he nodded, urging you on, and you clasped your hand against his open one. His calloused palm felt warm and solid against yours and you almost laughed to yourself at the passing thought that your hands fit together perfectly.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you looked to his visor for any indication that the Mandalorian had changed his mind. He squeezed your hand gently and that was all you needed. Centering yourself, you reached out to him with the Force, probing his mind for whatever memories he wanted you to see.

You saw… _everything_.

In a scene not unlike the one you’d experienced as a girl, you saw an army of battle droids destroy his home, his family. You watched from the perspective of a young Mando as his parents gave their lives to protect him in their final act. As he’d once told you, it was the Mandalorians that saved him. A man in blue Beskar pulled him from the storage vault and made him one of their own. And it was also the Mandalorians who suffered the loss of their culture, their people, their planet during the Siege of Mandalore. Somehow, he survived that carnage as well, and the grief of that second devastating loss that you felt through the Force was just as all-encompassing as the first. And so familiar.

You saw an endless stream of blood, battles, and bounties, each scene blurring into the next until you couldn’t decipher one from the other. You doubted he could make sense of it all either. All you knew for certain was that that Mando was at the center of it all.

And then, there was a little green child peering up at him with large glassy eyes from a bundle of blankets, reaching out with a small pointed finger. The events of their unlikely meeting unfolded before you ultimately culminating in the scene that he’d described to you the night before. Finally, you understood how Mando acquired his foundling. The truth threatened to break your heart and mend it all at once.

When you severed the connection, you instinctively threw your arms around Mando, forgetting yourself as you held him to you with all of your strength, not caring about the blunt edges of his cuirass and pauldrons digging into your soft skin. You buried your face against the rough fabric of his cape, wanting nothing more than to be close to him, and breathed in the warm scent of sweat and blaster residue and something you associated entirely with Mando.

You needed him to know that you appreciated the memories he’d just gifted you, that you understood him, that you cared for him. Words failing you, you simply held onto him with all your strength and hoped he understood.

When his arms tentatively wrapped around you, you knew that he did.

The two of you sat like that for some time, until you finally broke the silence. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” you murmured into his cape.

“Only you.” His response pulled at something deep inside of you. When he spoke next, there was something playful about his tone. “You know what always makes me feel better when I start thinking about everything?”

You pulled away from him just enough to hopefully hold his gaze through the visor. That his hands fell to your hips but never left you did not go unnoticed. You remembered saying those exact words to him, and an uninhibited grin broke out across your face. “Do you want to spar, Mando?”

You lunged at him, but in one swift movement Mando expertly blocked your attack and shoved you back against the canyon wall. An annoyed grunt escaped you as you tried to push back, but he was much stronger than you were. Steadying yourself and waiting for just the right moment as pinned to the wall, you leveraged your back against the red rock and used both feet to kick him with as much force as you could muster. There was a tinny _clang_ as your boots made contact with his cuirass. He stumbled backwards and you struck up a defensive position, smirking to yourself as you waited for him to strike.

You loved sparring with Mando. 

You thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you could take a Mandalorian head on and hold your own against him. It made you feel powerful. Gave you a sense of control. Nothing made sense anymore – hadn’t for years but only seemed to become more complicated and confusing over the past week – but training with him gave you something solid to hold on to. This, with him, felt so right. 

When he turned on you again, you knew he was going in for the kill. He was as competitive as you were, and if you had to venture a guess, enjoyed the game just as much as you did. You dove past him, landing a solid blow to his side in the process and hopefully distracting him while you regained some sense of balance. 

Except, he was quicker to recover. He kicked your unsteady feet out from under you and sent you crashing to the cold, hard ground. He had you. 

But instead of finishing the fight, he offered you a gloved hand. You took it and allowed him to pull you to your feet. You were both sweaty and panting and standing entirely too close, heaving chests practically touching.

“I win,” he teased as he stared at you through the visor.

“Just be thankful–” you said through ragged breaths, “–I wasn’t using the Force.”

He laughed. A real genuine belly laugh that made your heart flutter and you wished desperately that you could see his smile. “Next time you should. I could use a challenge.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mando,” you chided with a laugh of your own, “I had you the first round.”

“Maybe, but I had you the last two,” he said lowly. He reached out to wipe away a smear of mud on your cheek with a gloved thumb. You weren’t sure where the bold gesture came from, but you knew that you liked when he touched you without the pretense of sparring. A small smile played at the corners of your lips as you thought back to the way his skin felt against yours when you held his hand that morning. You wondered what his ungloved hands would feel like against your face. It was a dangerous thought. “Feel better?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do actually,” you said, leaning into his touch. Mando let the pad of his glove trail brush against your mouth as he withdrew his hand. You suddenly had the urge to kiss the man before you. 

“Oh, _kriff_ ,” you cursed. That was _not_ the way of the Jedi your master had taught you. As your mind was often wanting to do, it supplied the echo of her past reprimand for you. _You must abstain from all physical attachments in order to be one with the Force_. You needed to head her words now more than ever.

His helmet tilted to the side in question. You took a step back and hoped your face didn’t betray your thoughts and that he would attribute your flushed look to the sparring. Wanting nothing more than to move the subject away from your unwelcome attraction to the Mandalorian, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Can I show you something?”

“Sure,” he answered warily. 

“I’ll be right back.”

You ran up the half a dozen flights of stairs to the cliffside village, putting considerable distance between the two of you, and silently snuck back into your temporary dwelling, hoping you wouldn’t wake Nin’ak or Ro as it was still quite early. Swiping your bag from beside your cot, you hightailed it back down the canyon wall. You blamed your racing heart on the exertion.

You found Mando standing over the kid as he levitated a small cluster of stones. He must’ve sensed your return and his concentration broke, sending the rocks back to the planet’s surface with a clatter. Still, he smiled up at the Mandalorian, waiting for his approval.

“Very good, _ad’ika_ ,” the modulated voice rumbled. The baby chirped happily in response to his father’s praise. Mando’s hands rested on his belt in a position you’d come to understand meant he was relaxed. He seemed much more at ease after your sparring match than he did earlier that morning. Turning his visor toward you, he addressed his next words to you. “What did you want to show me?”

“You asked me what my preferred weapon was,” you started cautiously as you dug through the contents of your satchel. Reaching the bottom, your hand curled around the cold metal hilt of your lightsaber. “Well, I favor the weapon of the Jedi Knights.”

You held out your lightsaber, suddenly feeling braver with the sleek weapon in your grasp. Mando moved closer to you, his curiosity evident.

“It’s not a blaster. Not a sonic,” he mumbled to himself. You thought he might’ve been going through a catalogue of known weapons in his mind. If the arsenal on his ship was any indication, that was a long list. “Is it a techstaff?”

“No, it’s something else entirely,” you answered with a grin. “Want to see?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately.

Knowing you could trust him with anything, you ignited the weapon. It burst to life in your grasp, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the blue light reflected off the curve of his steel helmet.

… . …

Din Djarin didn’t consider himself an expert on much, but as far as weapons were concerned, he knew just about everything there possibly was to know. Yet, never had he encountered a weapon like yours in all his years as a bounty hunter. The seemingly simple object you’d shown him was actually the hilt of a powerful plasma blade.

“Show me,” he commanded. You grinned at him mischievously as you took a few steps back from him and the kid. You expertly twirled the sword and the blue light hummed with every movement as if it had a life of its own.

He watched you carefully, cataloguing your every move as you handled the unique weapon. You struck an opening stance, feet spread apart with your dominant foot behind you and your blade held vertically. Striking forward first, you moved through a series of maneuvers. Spinning on your heel, you sliced through the air with a powerful _woosh_. The drills were practiced, something you must’ve been made to do repetitively, and an image of that young girl you once were brandishing that same saber flashed through his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was something produced by his own brain or a lingering memory of yours.

A wide sweeping attack drew Din’s attention back to you as you were in front of him. He found that even for him, it was difficult to track the blade through the air. You were swift and assured in your movements. You would be deadly in combat. Certainly, someone he wanted to fight with, not against. 

He followed your every motion with rapt awe, and as you moved through another sequence, your attacks and parries flowing seamlessly together, Din reconciled your fighting technique when sparring with the woman before him. You wielded your lightsaber as if it was an extension of your body. The difference was minute, almost unnoticeable, but without it, it was as if you were missing a piece of yourself. With it, you were something else entirely.

“ _Mesh’la_ ,” he murmured more to himself than you. It was only supposed to be a thought.

“What was that?” you asked with a quizzical expression. Then, more eagerly as you abandoned your practice, “Is that _Mando’a_ again? I’ve heard you speak it with the kid. Like that name you call him.” Feeling his cheeks warm beneath his helmet, he hastily steered the conversation in another direction.

“How does it work?” he asked, gesturing to the lightsaber. You powered off the sword and held the cylindrical hilt out to him. Even through his glove, he felt the lingering warmth from the weapon and your grip as he wrapped his hand around it, handling it with care. It was heavier than he thought it would be.

“Lightsabers are complicated weapons.” You waved your hand over the hilt, and it disassembled itself in his hand. Dozens of tiny, complex components floated before him, some he recognized – power cell, focusing ring, modulation circuits – others he found strange. One piece in particular caught his gaze. A small blue crystal shone bright amongst the hovering parts. You pointed to it as you spoke. “But the kyber crystal is the heart of any lightsaber. These crystals are known for their connection to the Force. They’re exceptionally rare but unimaginably powerful, and finding one is an important part of any padawan learner’s training.” You smiled as if lost in a happier memory. “Lightsabers are designed to harness the energy that constantly flows through the crystal. That is where their power comes from.” 

With a quick flick of your wrist, the weapon reassembled itself. Din gently placed the saber in your outstretched hand and watched with wonder as you reignited the plasma blade. “You don’t have to be sensitive to the Force to wield a lightsaber, though it certainly helps. To fight with a blade like this you just have to be mindful of the crystal’s energy and your connection to it. Your own energy flows through the crystal and you become part of the weapon.”

You held the saber aloft once more with your arm stretched out to your side, forming a straight line from your shoulder to the tip of the blade. Yet, his gaze was trained on you, appreciating the blue glint to your eyes as you examined your sword. “A lightsaber was once the weapon of the Jedi Knights. Now, the Jedi Order is no more and but a few of us remain who possess such a weapon.” You extinguish the plasma blade and tapped the end of the hilt against his cuirass. “I’d choose this over a blaster any day. 

“I can see why.” He deadpanned. “Though it won’t do you much good hidden in your bag.”

“I’ve never felt comfortable keeping it out in the open. If someone recognized it for what it was, it would just be trouble,” you sighed, fiddling with the saber’s hilt. “You’re the first person I’ve shown it to since I left Master Zarichi all those years ago.”

He set a hand atop of your own to still your nervous fidgeting, wrapping his own around yours and the hilt. “This weapon is part of you, just like this–” he motioned widely to his armor with his free hand, “–makes me a Mandalorian. Wear it with pride.”

You beamed at him, and for the briefest moment, everything was right in the galaxy.

Then, fat raindrops started falling from the clouds above, drawing your gaze away from his. Just as Nin’ak predicted the night before, the eye of the storm offered a short respite from the rain before a second wave would wash over the canyon.

“We better get back inside before it really starts up again,” you suggested. 

“Agreed.” 

You tilt your head to the side to look past Din and whatever you saw caused a burst of laughter to bubble up from inside you. He glanced over his shoulder only to find the kid playing in a ruddy clay puddle, nearly waist deep. His ears twitched happily as he tilted his face toward the sky, enjoying the sensation of the rain on his skin.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to mind the rain today, does he?” you asked, still giggling at the baby’s antics. 

Sighing, Din stalked over and picked him up by the scruff of his robe, holding the wet, muddy child at arm’s length. Pouting, the baby looked at him with pleading eyes, feigning innocence. 

“You’re going straight to the fresher, you little womp rat.”

The storm raged on until early the next morning. As Din peered out the small window overlooking the canyon, the dark, angry clouds started to part, giving way to the bright golden light of Vrogas Vas’ lone sun. The village, idle and quiet during the storm, was already showing signs of life. He could hear the lively buzzing of people chatting and working inside the cliffside habitat, vibrating through the thick rock walls as they finally emerged from the safety of their homes. He supposed the small community was always that energetic and active. 

Down below, a few people worked by the riverbed, tending to the freshly watered garden and cleaning debris blown in by the powerful winds. A few children chased each other around the rocky valley, their joy evident even from a distance as they played together, happy to be free again. He thought the Child would enjoy spending time with the other kids. Ro had taken to him quite quickly and she was the first friend he’d had in a long time. Since Sorgan – and that felt like eons ago. His thoughts wandered off, toying with the idea of the three of you staying another day, just for him. 

He sighed to himself, an exhalation deep enough to register through the modulator. He wasn’t sure when he’d developed this new desire for a sedentary life. Ever since the kid had come into his care, he found himself thinking of a quiet place to settle down with his foundling more often than not. It was a dangerous thought. He was supposed to find the Child’s people, either the Jedi or his own kind. The baby wasn’t meant to stay with him. Din was a bounty hunter and he still had his tribe, or at least, what was left of his tribe, to provide for. He couldn’t entertain such selfish thoughts.  
You shifted on your cot behind him, capturing his attention and reminding him that he’d also promised to take you to your master. He couldn’t delay either of your missions for some foolish and fleeting fantasy.

But when your eyes fluttered open, falling upon him, and a soft smile played on your lips, he wished all three of you could stay together. He turned back to the window, hating himself for the errant thought.

“Good morning to you too, Mando,” you said groggily as you sat up and stretched. “Has the rain stopped?”

“Yeah,” he answered as he watched the children play. A young Twi’lek boy pursued the others in a game of chase. 

“I guess we can finally move on,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he answered without turning away from the window, “Time to move on.”

… . …

After reluctantly rising from your cot, you started your morning with a quick shower in the sonic and changed into a fresh set of clothes. You felt a bit more ready to face the new day and whatever else your journey might bring. When you stepped out of the small ‘fresher, your sleeping quarters were empty and so you wandered through the home looking for Mando and the Child.

You found them in the small dining room along with Nin’ak as she fussed over a table covered with food. There were plates of fluffy panna cakes topped with juicy barabel fruits, a dish of heavily seasoned fried root vegetables, helpings of thinly sliced joba fruit wedges, and both roasted bhillen meat and vege-steak. After a week of little more than ration bars, portion packets, and cantina food, your mouth watered at the sight – and the _smell_ – of the indulgent spread. 

“Nin’ak,” you said breathlessly, “This is too much.”

“I tried to tell her,” Mando mumbled from his seat at the table. Something told you he wasn’t used to accepting such kind gestures either. He held the baby on his lap as he gnawed contentedly on a piece of roasted bhillen the size of his little green head.

“Nonsense, my dear.” Nin’ak guided you to the empty seat across from him and poured a steaming cup of caf, placing it gently in your hands. “As I said, we rarely have guests. And I am old. I might never have the opportunity to do this for someone again. Indulge me, and eat, please.”

Mouth practically watering, you piled your plate with a bit of everything. “How did you get all of this here?” you asked curiously around a generous bite of panna cake.

“We didn’t always live in such abundance, though this is certainly a treat,” she explained. “Years ago, a rebel ship crashed not too far from our humble village. The pilots left the U-wing, figuring it was destroyed, but we are a resourceful people. After almost four years of work, a few of our handier neighbors repaired it. Every few months someone will make a supply run to a nearby populated planet. Now, we know more about the delicacies of the galaxy than ever before.”

“That’s fascinating. Not to sound insensitive, but I don’t know how you survived on this barren planet before then.”

“We made do,” she replied as only a woman of her years could, “Life always finds a way.”

A tired Ro trudged into the room, dragging a well-loved Togruta doll in one hand and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the other. “Nana, I’m hungry,” she grumbled.

“Well, why don’t you join us, my darling?” her grandmother answered as she sat at the head of the table. 

Opening her tired eyes, Ro took in the impressive feast. Suddenly, wide awake, she exclaimed, “This is amazing!” 

The little girl climbed onto the Mandalorian’s lap, perching on his leg opposite the baby, and immediately reached for the sweet joba fruit. Mando’s visor snapped towards Ro, surprised by her boldness. You didn’t need to see the face behind the mask to know he was bewildered, as if he couldn’t quite believe she didn’t fear the Mandalorian armor. Maybe Ro could also sense the gentle man underneath. You smiled into your mug of caf at the sight.

When the children finished eating and ran off to play, you prepared a plate of food for Mando and all but shoved him into your shared room, intent on making sure he ate his fill before you set off for the day. Meanwhile, you assisted Nin’ak with clearing the table and washing the stacks of dishes, despite her protests that guests need not help with chores. You worked quietly side by side, until she said something that nearly made you drop the cup you were drying.

“You should make it my midday,” she offered evenly, “The sanctum isn’t far from here.”

“How did you know–”

“My grandmother used to tell me about the Jedi,” she answered with a knowing look. “They would pass through our village on their way to the ancient temple. I like to think I saw one once, back when I was Ro’s age. But that was long before the Clone Wars, let alone the reign of the Empire. I never thought I would see another. Let alone one with a Mandalorian. You could only imagine my delight when you showed up.”

You couldn’t even think of a response. How this woman was able to read you so well was an enigma, but the Force worked in mysterious ways. Sometimes it led you to the people you didn’t even know you needed to find. So, you simply smiled, knowing she’d understand all the same. 

She patted your cheek, a gesture reminiscent of that of your own grandmother, and led you back to the main room where the Child and Ro played and Mando waited for you. As you prepared to say your goodbyes, Nin’ak assured you that you would be welcome to stay with them again on your way back out of the canyon and to not worry about such formalities just yet. Just as you started to descend the spiral of stairs leading to the riverbed, she called after you.

“Good luck, and may the Force be with you.”

They were words you hadn’t heard in years. Words you would carry with you into the sanctum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations
> 
> ad'ika: little one
> 
> mesh'la: beautiful
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	6. Divination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally make it to the ancient sanctum on Vrogas Vas – but you find much more than you were looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been impatiently waiting for weeks to share this chapter and I’m so excited for you to read it. Please, please, please let me know what you think! Not only am I super curious, but your comments really do mean the world to me.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Force-induced angst.

Hours after leaving the village, Din found himself still hiking alongside the river, following the smooth curves the water had cut through the dry desert planet. The river flowed powerfully beside him, replenished after the rain, but the smooth rock shore was completely dry. On either side of the gorge, towering red rock walls offered no escape. At that junction, the canyon narrowed to reveal only a thin slice of the blue sky, but the midday sun shone directly overhead, casting a harsh glare across the riverbed. Fortunately, it was the temperate season. The Child was happily wrapped in his blankets, sitting up in his carrier and observing the passing terrain with curious eyes. Even you had covered yourself with an extra protective layer as a chill lingered in the air from the storm.

Din watched as you walked ahead of him. With one arm outstretched, you traced gentle fingertips along the rock wall. It seemed like an odd thing to do; surely your touch wasn’t enough to steady yourself, nor did you seem to need any help as your worn boots treaded confidently over the rugged terrain. You were quiet now, but you’d spent most of the morning’s hike telling him about the Jedi.

_“The Path of the Jedi follows that of the light. It is about finding peace and tranquility through the Force.”_

_“Is that why you’re always meditating?”_

_“That’s part of it, yes.” You smiled at him over your shoulder. “I’m never going to be able to answer your first question if you keep interrupting me with more questions.”_

_A raspy laugh escaped the modulator. “Please, tell me more.”_

_“Where the Jedi sought the light, the Sith aligned themselves with the dark. They were natural adversaries from the beginning. Centuries of conflict climaxed during the Clone Wars. Alongside the Republic, the Jedi Order did what it could to maintain peace in the galaxy, to preserve democracy, but it wasn’t enough. The darkside prevailed.”_

_“But what happened to the Jedi? I’ve spent most of my life traveling across the galaxy, and I’d never heard of any of this until I found him.” He looked down at the Child floating along beside him and then back to you. “Until I met you.”_

_“History is written by the victors. The Jedi were destroyed, slaughtered by the clones, and the Empire erased anything that suggested they ever existed. At best, it’s all a myth now. It’s as if the entire galaxy forgot,” you sighed. “The only reason I know any of this is because my master trained as a padawan at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. She said she survived by sheer luck. If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t even know how to use my powers.”_

_When he didn’t offer a response, you peeked coyly over your shoulder at him again. “You can tell me if I’m boring you, Mando.”_

_“No,” he said quickly, “You’re not.”_

_“Sometimes I wonder if the Jedi’s involvement in politics isn’t what exacerbated the war and brought about their end. Master Zarichi and I used to have, well, let’s call them spirited debates, over it all. I thought the Jedi strayed from their path. I don’t know if I would’ve ever wanted to be a Jedi – not as they defined it.”_

_“Is that why you don’t call yourself a Jedi?”  
Your shoulders rose and fell in a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll never be one now, so I suppose it doesn’t matter what I call myself. I do, however, know that my beliefs have more in common with the Jedi than the Sith.”_

_“But you use the darkside,” Din challenged, “You said you called upon it to kill the nexu.”_

_“Yes, I did.” Turning on your heel, you stopped walking and spun around to face him. Something dark flashed across your eyes that made him pause. “To save you.”_

_Din was no stranger to the moral ambiguities and complexities of the galaxy. Life was never a simple matter of good or bad. He wouldn’t judge your decision, but even in your determination, he could see your unease about the darkside – then and now. A similar battle raged within himself._

_“I’ve never fit into any of it. The light, the dark; the Jedi and the Sith.” Shaking your head, your gaze fell away from him and settled on the river rapids. When you spoke again, your quiet voice was solemn. “I disobeyed Master Zarichi and joined the Rebellion because I wanted revenge – that is not the way of the Jedi. She always said I let my emotions rule me, that I shouldn’t form attachments. She saw something dark in me. Maybe she was right.”_

_You walked away, leaving him feeling apprehensive and disheartened, at best. About the Jedi. About the Force. About you._

_Still, he followed, determined to see you to the temple, and the three of you continued your journey._

Things had been quiet for the last few clicks, and he’d tried his best to ignore the new strain of tension pulling taut between the two of you. He knew you weren’t upset with him, but something was definitely bothering you and that was inordinately frustrating to him. He didn’t quite understand how, in such a short time, your emotions, thoughts, and behaviors had become so important to him – and he quickly decided it was best not to dwell on that particular notion.

Instead, he observed you carefully, looking for any hints of what you might be thinking, though he knew he’d find nothing as you strode ahead of him. From behind the safety of his visor, Din let his eyes trail over your body, and the subtle sway of your hips led his gaze to the weapon holstered at your side. _The weapon of the Jedi Knights_. It was the first time you dared to wear it out in the open. Granted, you didn’t expect to meet anyone on this leg of the journey, so it was almost certainly safe for you to do so. And if you had another run in with the nexu or any other strange creatures lurking around on Vrogas Vas, you’d be more than ready to fight. He’d never seen anything like your lightsaber, but the bright blue plasma blade fit you somehow – it was elegant but deadly – and he was strangely glad you’d decided to carry it on you.

Before his mind could drift back to memories of you gracefully wielding the saber, the same thoughts that had occupied him for much of the time since you’d first showed it to him, you stopped suddenly, and he almost crashed into you. The kid’s carrier halted too, hovering next to Din. An inquisitive chirp asked the very question he was thinking.

“We’re here,” you stated simply.

“This is a temple?” Din asked in disbelief. He flicked through a few different filters on his HUD but his scanners didn’t pick up a damn thing. “There’s nothing here.”

You pressed the palms of your hands firmly against the canyon wall and nodded. “Yes, there is. I can feel it. The Force is so strong here.”

Next to him, the kid tumbled out of his pod and shuffled up to the rocky façade. He placed two clawed hands against the stone, mimicking you as he was prone to do as of late. He looked up at Din expectantly. Hesitantly, he set his own gloved hand against the wall, unsurprised if not slightly disappointed when he felt nothing.

“It’s here, I know it is,” you said with more confidence. You backed away from the wall, your sharp eyes scanning it for something Din knew he wouldn’t see. Scooping up the kid, he dropped him back into his carrier and moved to stand next to you again. He watched intently as you breathed deeply, focusing yourself like he’d seen you do a dozen times. With two hands stretched out before you, you closed your eyes.

What happened next was entirely unexpected.

Din stumbled back into a fighting stance when the ground shook beneath him, but it was what he saw that surprised him the most. A jagged crack violently split apart the stone wall in front of him, revealing an entryway carefully carved into the cliffside. It was as if it appeared out of nowhere, but he knew you were responsible for the marvel before him. There were old runes etched into the rock by the doorway. They were unreadable even with the optic translator on his visor, revealing nothing about what was inside the dark cave.

“That looks more like a temple,” he quipped. When he didn’t get a witty response, he looked back at you. Your wide eyes hurriedly took in the sight of the temple, seeming to never settle on anything, and you wavered unsteadily. He placed a firm hand between your shoulder blades, hoping to balance you. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s overwhelming,” you said, your voice hardly more than a whisper. “This place– I’ve never felt anything like it before. I can sense the light…and the dark.”

“It’s okay,” he offered. He drew you closer to him, hoping to convey something he couldn’t put into words. “We’ll do this together.”

“No.” Din stilled and waited for you to explain. “I don’t think we can. I think I have to go in alone.”

“Why?”

“I just do.”

“Is this some Jedi thing?” he asked, a bit irritated.

“I told you I’m no Jedi.” You gave an anxious laugh but relaxed a little under his hold. Placing a tender hand on his chestplate, you finally looked up at him and he thought you stood a little taller. “But yes, I think this is a Jedi thing.”

“We’ll be right here waiting for you,” he said determinedly. A trill sound from the carrier indicated the Child’s agreement. A small smile pulled at your lips and he felt a bit of relief at the sight.

Sighing, you shucked off your extra layers and set your satchel down at his feet, leaving anything unnecessary. With a final tweak of the baby’s nose and a curt nod in his direction, you set off towards the temple entrance.

“Hey,” he called after you, “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

You considered him for a long moment. He wasn’t entirely sure where the sentiment or the sudden need to voice it emanated from, but his candid reassurance seemed to comfort you. With a final wave, you disappeared into the darkness and the canyon walls slammed shut, magically resealing the crack in the rocky surface and permanently barring you from him.

An uneasy feeling settled in Din’s stomach as he sat down next to the Child’s carrier. The kid’s ears drooped, and he let out a small whimper.

“She’ll come back, _ad’ika_ ,” he said, trying to soothe the toddler’s worries as well as his own.

… . …

 _I believe in you_.

Mando’s words echoed long after the rock walls had closed behind you with a deafening crash, effectively trapping you in the planet’s interior. There wasn’t so much as a sliver of light in the pitch black of the small cave and you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face. Igniting your lightsaber, you held your only light source out in front of you, letting it illuminate the red rock surfaces as you scanned the sanctum.

But there was _nothing_. No doors, no exits. Certainly, nowhere to go. You searched high and low but couldn’t find any rune markings or artifacts. There was absolutely nothing to indicate a Jedi nor anyone else had ever been there before you. It was as eerily quiet as it was dark with nothing but your uneven breathing and the hum of your saber reverberating off the cavern walls.

 _I believe in you_.

His distorted voice sounded like a mantra in your head and your breaths started to shorten, coming in quick and shallow. There was no way out and nothing in there to help you, to help them. You thought of the Mandalorian and the Child waiting for you outside the sanctum and the idea that you were trapped beneath the planet’s surface and would never see them again all but consumed you. You tried to readjust the grip of your lightsaber in your clammy hands and almost dropped the precious weapon.

“Shit,” you sighed as you wiped your hands on your trousers, “What’s wrong with me?”

You needed to calm down and think your way out of this. Glancing around the cave again, knowing you weren’t going to find anything, you realized you were the only thing in the sanctum. If anything was going to happen, it was going to come from you. From within you.

 _I believe in you_.

You knew what you needed to do.

Disengaging your saber, you secured it to your belt and let the darkness swallow you once more. You knelt in the center of the cave, closed your eyes, and opened your mind to the Force. It surrounded you; moved through you. With your mind, you reached out towards it, feeling the vibrations of your own past. You saw yourself as a child and remembered the warmth of your parent’s embrace. Felt the tragic loss of their love. You recalled training with your master and fighting alongside your brother, laughing and smiling through shared struggles. In the end, you lost both of them as well.

It was as if your entire past, the good and the bad, the light and the dark, had collapsed in on itself and was happening all at once. The weight of it threatened to crush you. Until you accepted that your past lived within you every minute of every day. It didn’t define you, but it had undeniably shaped you into the woman you were now. You couldn’t change it. You didn't want to. So, for the first time in your life, you embraced it all.

“I believe,” you murmured, “In myself.”

Though perhaps it shouldn’t have, the utterance tasted foreign and new on your tongue. Those four simple words settled deep inside you. You let them etch themselves into your bones and slip through your bloodstream; let them become part of your being so you’d never forget them again.

Suddenly, you were stirred from your contemplation by the sound of rushing water, faint at first but quickly approaching. It confused you for a moment before your eyes snapped open as you remembered Nin’ak’s warning about the canyon’s sudden, violent flash floods. Jumping up, you raced to the wall where you entered, trying to reopen the temple’s entrance. When nothing happened, you started pounding your fists against the solid rock wall.

“Mando!” you cried out in hopeless warning. There was no way he would hear you. You made to shout again, but a sudden wave of water pounded into you, throwing you against the opposite wall.

The water was _inside_ the cave. Surrounding you. Drowning you.

As quickly as the flood appeared, it evaporated, leaving you soaking wet on the rocky floor. After coughing up a lungful of water, you attempted to regain your bearing as you stood on shaky legs. Only, you didn’t need your lightsaber to see anymore. Somehow, the current had taken you deeper into the planet’s surface and you were in a much larger cavern. There were shimmering trails of a golden substance in the sand-colored rocks and the luminescent mineral deposits cast a warm glow around you. Despite your turbulent journey to this part of the temple, you couldn’t help but find it beautiful.

“The kid would’ve loved this,” you said to yourself as you admired the shiny cave walls. Then, a bright blue light floating in the middle of the cavern caught your eye and you slowly moved closer, watching it carefully as it morphed into a humanoid shape.

“Rhys?” you asked breathlessly, “My little brother.” You would recognize him anywhere, even if the Force presented him to you as a mere phantom of who he once was. Aside from the soft blue glow around him, Rhys looked just like he did the last time you saw him; decked out in his usual Rebel-issued uniform and itching to jump into the nearest X-wing.

“Sis,” he said with a smile, “How many times do I have to remind you that I’ve been taller than you for years now? I’m not so little anymore.”

You laughed through the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That was definitely your brother.

“I’ve missed you,” you said wetly, sniffling at the sight of him.

“How can you miss what isn’t gone? I am with you always,” he assured you, “Our parents and I, we all live on within you.”

“I know. Still, I miss you all anyways.” You bit your lip to keep from crying. Seeing him, hearing him, it was almost too much, but nothing could have torn your gaze from your brother. “I’ve been _so lonely_ without you.”

“But you’re not alone, are you?” he asked teasingly with a mischievous grin. You always knew when he was needling you, but his question confused you. “Not anymore, at least.” 

“What do you mean?”

Shaking his head at you, Rhys gestured for you to follow. An old, comfortable silence hung between you and your long-lost sibling as you walked deeper into the cavern together. “We both know you’re not here to relive the past, sis. Tell me, why are you really here?”

“I’m looking for our master.”

“Yes, you are. But why are you really here?” he asked again.

“Again, I don’t know what you mean.” You stopped walking, hoping he would offer some sort of clarification. Instead of answering, he leveled you with a knowing look. The one you’d always hated. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you finally continued, “I lost you. I lost my whole family. I lost my master. Everyone that ever mattered to me is dead or missing. And the Rebellion is over but there’s no place for me in the New Republic. There’s no place for me anywhere.”

“You know that’s not true,” he chided.

“I’m lost!” you yelled into the cavern, your own voice ringing around yourself. If anyone knew how to get you worked up, it was your own brother. But as you said the words, you knew they weren’t quite true – not anymore. Between the closing of the sanctum doors and the flood that carried you here, something inside of you had changed. Even though you didn’t know exactly where you were going, you no longer felt like a starship adrift in the Unknown Regions. You just had to let go of the endless guilt and grief you still carried if you were to ever find some sense of peace. You had to let yourself move finally forward.

Rhys nodded solemnly before clasping a hand on your shoulder, “You know, you can be so dramatic sometimes.”

“I thought force ghosts were supposed to be wise and helpful,” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me.” He laughed at you with that familiar grin. “Now c’mon, there’s something you need to see.”

As he guided you through the hollow cavern, the glowing gold deposits grew denser and brighter. Eventually you stopped in front of a simple, solid gold altar made entirely from the shimmering metal and so bright it was almost difficult to look at in the low light of the cave.

“Make an offering,” Rhys commanded.

“I don’t have anything.” Even as you said it, your hand grasped the crescent of your mother’s necklace. The only other thing of value you had was your lightsaber and you would never part with it. You couldn’t. Reluctantly, you slipped the corded necklace off and held the gold charm tightly in your hand, letting the sharp points leave indentations in your palm. You didn’t want to let go but you knew you had to. Rhys stood off to the side as you approached the altar.

“This temple predates even the Jedi,” he explained, “There are mystic powers here that belong neither to the lightside nor darkside of the Force. Or, maybe, they’re both. Who really knows?” He shrugged nonchalantly, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Shouldn’t you know,” you joked, trying to lighten the pain of parting with the last bit of your mother.

“Either way,” he said, ignoring your jab, “You’ll find the answers you seek.”

Clutching the charm to your chest one last time, you set the necklace on the altar, watching as it disappeared before your eyes. As soon as it vanished, everything went dark.

You were falling fast. And then suddenly falling hard onto a beach of onyx sand. Dark, angry ocean waves crashed behind you, but in front of you, stood two women watching a familiar gunship take off in the distance. One was a tall, distinguished Pantoran woman with distinctly lavender hair and dressed in flowing ink-colored robes.

“Master Zarichi!” you called out to her, but your master didn’t make any indication that she could hear you. You ran up to her, and then straight through her. When you turned back around, you recognized the other woman as yourself. “What the hell?”

In a flash, you were somewhere different. You could still smell the saltwater air and hear the waves off in the distance, but now you stood in a field of tall green grass. As you walked to a clearing before you, you noticed several humble huts to the left and a group of excited children to the right.

You stopped at the edge of the grass. Master Zarichi stood stoically next to you, hands clasped behind her back like always, but she looked older. There were traces of gray mixed in with the soft purple of her hair and her light blue skin was much more wrinkled than the last time you saw her. She watched a group of younglings and padawans of various ages train. You followed her gaze to where some children meditated calmly while others practiced levitating each other, which usually resulted in a burst of giggles that pulled at something in your own chest.

However, Zarichi’s primary focus was on the young adults wielding lightsabers against one another. You gasped when you saw yourself amongst the group. This version of you was correcting the student’s stances, offering alternative opening positions, and lecturing about the importance of discipline. And the younglings called you _master_.

With another burst of light, you found yourself standing in the middle of a complex of unfamiliar buildings, yet you knew you were still on the same planet. An abundance of people, masters and padawans alike, bustled around the campus. Some even passed straight through you as they strolled across the courtyard. You walked among them, until you spotted an older woman with a group of students gathered around her. All eyes were glued to her as she regaled them a story. She spoke of a Mandalorian warrior and his foundling. You paused to listen to yourself tell your own story.

“But did you ever see him again?” one inquisitive Rodian girl asked with starry eyes.

“No, I did not. But my brief travels with him brought me here. And look at what this academy has become since then.” The older version of yourself smiled at the kids, but you could see the sorrow in your own eyes.

You were falling again. At least this time you knew to brace for impact. You rolled to your feet with a frustrated grunt, landing on a different planet, this one marred by battle. Three TIE-fighters shrieked by overhead and the sound of blaster fire pulled you out of your daze. Looking across the battlefield, you recognized yourself as you dueled with a man in dark robes wielding a lightsaber. But the black blade made it unlike any saber you’d seen before.

Just as you made to move closer, the scene before you was ripped away and replaced with something much more peaceful. Your jaw dropped when you saw yourself lying naked in bed, thin sheets hardly covering you, with a man. One you most definitely did not recognize. You rested on his chest, running your fingers lightly across his bare body while he lazily stroked your shoulder. Your eyes were drawn back to the man at the sound of his voice.

“I love you.” He said it quietly, but it rang loud in your ears. His voice was deep and soothing and so familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Your eyes desperately tried to take in his features, but it was as if your vision wouldn’t focus on him. His face remained unknown to you.

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched the version of yourself curled against this strange man smile up at him before replying, “I love you too, Din.”

Again, a beam of light destroyed the scene before you and replaced it with something worse. You were training younglings again, but instead of master, they called you _mom_.

When you fell for the third time, you collapsed into a heap back in the cavern, lying before the golden altar. You buried your face in your hands and let yourself truly cry for the first time since your brother died. Sobs racked your body and you made no effort to stop them.

“I– I don’t understand,” you choked out, “That’s my future?”

“It would seem you saw two possible futures,” your brother’s ghost answered you. “You know these visions aren’t always straightforward. The Force is a bit of a tease.”

“Then what am I supposed to make of all that?” you pleaded as your tears finally subsided.

“Consider it all possible for you. It’s up to you to decide what you want.” Rhys leveled you with a sober look. “It’s time to start believing in yourself. And to live for yourself.”

Your mind immediately replayed the vision of you in bed with that man. A man you apparently would love. And those two kids. You’d spent your whole life running towards something bigger than yourself. Training to be a Jedi, joining the rebellion – you’d just wanted somewhere to belong. While both futures scared you for a myriad of reasons, those two scenes hurt the most. That sort of belonging and connection was never supposed to be available to you. You ran a hand over your face, trying to erase it all from your memory.

“The force deemed it necessary to show you this; do with it what you will. Good luck, sis.”

“That’s it? You’re leaving me?” you said, panicking.

“I told you, I’m always with you,” he replied cheekily, offering you a final smile, “But you don’t need me here like this anymore.”

“Wait!” You needed more time. You never got to say a proper goodbye and there’s so much you wished you could tell your brother, but you settled on what was most important. “I love you, Rhys.”

“I love you too. May the force be with you, always.” He was gone in the blink of an eye.

“You too, little brother,” you said to an empty cavern.

When you heard the approaching rush of water for the second time, you slumped against the foot of the altar. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding–”

The hard crash of the wave over you cut you off before you could finish your retort.

… . …

It felt like hours since you disappeared behind the canyon walls. The sun was fast setting, and dark shadows already covered the riverbed. Din was breaking apart pieces of a ration bar to feed to the kid after he’d given up on catching the few sparse fish swimming near the river’s edge. The slippery creatures were much too quick as they made their way downstream – even for the kid’s surprisingly fast reflexes. It had occupied the toddler for most of the afternoon but left him tired and hungry. He gnawed on a chunk and made a gurgling noise of displeasure. Glaring at Din out of the corner of his eyes, he made sure his discontentment was well known.

“Sorry, kid,” he apologized, “That’s all I’ve got for you.”

He looked back over his shoulder at the solid red wall of rock he’d been staring at all afternoon, not expecting anything and shocked when he noticed the first fissures breaking the surface of the wall. When two slabs of rock began to separate once more, he jumped up, abandoning his attempt to force feed the kid. He sighed in relief when he saw you exit the sanctum just as the pieces of the wall retreated back together. As you approached him, he noticed you were soaking wet, droplets of water steadily falling from your clothes and hair, even the tip of your nose.

You looked at him with vacant eyes.

“I know where Master Zarichi is,” you stated flatly before gathering your satchel and walking off without another word, leaving him alone and confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations
> 
> Ad'ika: little one
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	7. Hostility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of your unsettling experience at the temple of Vrogas Vas, Mando attempts to comfort you while you grapple with your future – until an old adversary resurfaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still not over the responses to the last chapter. I can’t tell you how much fun it is for me to write this story, but then knowing that you all like it too? I just can't handle it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for every comment and kudos 💕 So, idk how I hit 7k on this one but after that last chapter these two have a lot of thoughts and feelings and there was nothing I could do about it. I hope you enjoy the drama.
> 
> Thank you again to Julia for making this stunning [moodboard](https://huliabitch.tumblr.com/post/617864880582688768/moodboard-for-tiffdawg-the-light-of-stars-tiffany) for this story. I cry a little every time I look at it because it is just that beautiful.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** It’s just angst and pining. Canon-typical violence, minor injuries. Mild language.

With the absence of the sun, an icy chill fell over the canyon along with an unsettling darkness. Trapped between the towering walls, there was no light from the moon or even the distant stars to illuminate the dangerous, rocky path through the gorge save for the dim light mounted on his helmet. He had the benefit of the nighttime display on his HUD but guiding you and the Child’s carrier was a bit of a challenge. With the Force on your side, you’d never needed his help before. That night, that wasn’t the case.

Knowing full well there was no way the three of you would make it any farther than the village, not when you were shivering so violently that you could hardly stand, Din dutifully led you back to Nin’ak’s home. He’d had half a mind to throw you over his shoulder and carry you the last click but decided you would definitely not welcome the suggestion. Not even in your current state.

Since you’d emerged from the sanctum and announced that you’d learned the location of your former master, you hadn’t uttered a single word, hadn’t so much as looked at him.

When he knocked on the metal door leading to Nin’ak’s cliffside dwelling, the kindhearted Togruta woman ushered the unlikely group inside once more, unsurprised to see the three of you again. She offered her spare room and promised warm food at the sight of you. Of course, Ro was thrilled to see the three of you again, not that Din expected anything less, and he was happy to let her entertain the kid while he decided what to do with you. He didn’t like your silence or the distant look in your eyes. He especially didn’t like that you just let him push you around the room; you lacked your usual poise and determination.

You were in shock. He’d seen it before. Mostly in terrified bounties. He’d also experienced it himself once or twice in his younger years. He’d never had to help anyone through it before.

Din guided you to the refresher with a gentle hand on the small of your back, parting from you only to turn on the jets. You slumped against the wall across from him shaking your head at the water. Your eyelids fluttered shut from exhaustion and he thought you might fall asleep on your feet. Still, it was the closest thing to communication he’d gotten out of you the entire evening.

“Shower,” he commanded before hesitantly leaving you alone.

You were still in the ‘fresher, hopefully thawing out, when Nin’ak delivered three heaping bowls of soup made from fresh hearty vegetables and spices grown in the fertile riverbed below. The kid toddled in behind her, clutching at her flowing robes, with Ro hot on their heels.

“Has she said anything?” Nin’ak asked as she set the try of food on the small table next to him.

“No,” he replied gruffly, immediately feeling bad for being short to the woman who’d shown him nothing but kindness. “She hasn’t spoken in hours.”

“That’s not good. The poor dear.” The Togruta’s distinctive white markings creased as she contemplated her next words. “She didn’t give you any indication of what might’ve happened?”

“Something with the Force?” he suggested, shaking his head. “I have no idea.”

“Well, whatever happened, she’s certainly had a bit of a fright.”

“I don’t– What do I do?”

“Simply keep doing what you have been. That’s the only thing you can do, really. She’ll come around to you in time.” She suggested it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But her advice didn’t exactly help him because whatever Din was doing didn’t seem to be enough for you. When Nin’ak didn’t continue speaking, he shifted towards her, knowing his frustration was evident even through the armor. She smiled at him softly, almost as if she found his vexation amusing. “Continue to take care of her. Be gentle with her. You’re doing just fine, Mandalorian.”

With that parting advice, Nin’ak left, dragging a protesting Ro along with her. Caring and gentle weren’t exactly his strong suit. He tried with the kid, but he felt like he failed with that all of the time. And you– Well, he cared for you. But that didn’t mean he knew _how_ to care for you. He’d never been a gentle man.

While the kid ate his fill of soup, Din removed his armor and helmet. Aside from the nurse droid, his foundling was the only one to see his face since he was a boy. They were a clan of two now, after all, so he supposed it was allowed even if it was only temporary.

The baby loved mealtime – and not just because he got to eat. As was becoming a bit of an unusual habit, the Child insisted on being held while Din ate. Raising his arms in a silent but unmistakable plea after he finished his own meal, he asked to be level with Din’s face. He found something about it absolutely fascinating and seemed to enjoy tracing over the rugged contours of his visage, tugging at his hair and squealing whenever Din made a face at him. He was happy to accommodate him that night, wanting to shield the perceptive toddler from whatever turmoil you were experiencing.

When he heard the water shut off, he set the Child on his cot and quickly replaced his helmet. You emerged a minute later freshly showered and dressed in the simple nightclothes Din had dug out of your satchel for you. While you were no longer shivering, you didn’t look any less upset.

You had, however, seemed to find a second burst of energy after bathing. Din watched unabashedly as you ate in silence, padding around the small room with bare feet while occasionally scooping food into your mouth. If your dazed pacing wasn’t bad enough, the look on your face unnerved him even more. Even in the low yellow light provided by the single flickering lamp, he could practically see your mind turning as you wrestled with whatever you’d found in the temple. And when you continued your measured pacing after you finished eating, he knew you weren’t going to settle yourself that night.

Eventually, watching your rhythmic movement lulled the kid to sleep. Din tucked him safely into his carrier, making sure to close the cover so he wouldn’t wake anytime soon, and then turned his attention to you. He still didn’t know what to do. You were always so strong.

But maybe you needed this. Whatever happened in the sanctum was irrelevant; you needed this moment of frustration and uncertainty. Needed to be vulnerable. And if you needed that, then he would help you through it.

“Hey,” he said as he clasped a hand on the curve of your shoulder to stop your pacing before you could wear the rugs thin. And he left it there. “Talk to me.”

That was something the two of you were actually good at, as much as that amazed him. Surely it would help now. You sighed deeply, deflating under his touch, and he took your empty bowl from you as he guided you to your cot with a gentle hand. He sat on the edge of his own across from you as you crawled in and pulled the blankets up to your chin. Still, you didn’t speak, preferring to pull at a loose threat in the stitching of the old quilt.

“What happened in there?” he dared to ask again. “Something must have happened, you’re not yourself.”

You looked at him with your half-lidded eyes, tired and lacking their usual spark. “For a brief, wonderful moment I thought I knew who I was. Now, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.” He could hear the pain in your voice, felt it in his own heart, but before he could say anything, you turned your back to him.

He sighed and switched off the lone lamp before settling into his own cot despite knowing sleep wouldn’t come anytime soon. With the darkness to protect him, he removed his helmet. While he was more than used to wearing it for long periods of time, he’d spent hardly any time without it since he’d met you and after the day’s events, if he wasn’t going to sleep, he at least needed to breathe.

It was then that Din was struck by how comfortable he was with you. He didn’t even think twice about removing his helmet with you in the dark room. He felt safe with you. And you had already seen more of him than anyone else. He lied there, feeling restless regardless of his fatigue, until finally he couldn’t help himself – he wanted to offer that same comfort to you.

“I don’t think you don’t need me or anyone else to tell you who you are,” he whispered into the night, unsure if you were even still awake. “You’re– You’re you.” He struggled to find the right words, unused to sharing such thoughts with anyone. “You’re kindhearted, intelligent, and capable. You’re so strong, and you know it. What ever happened in that temple doesn’t change who you are. Nothing can change that.”

He heard the distinct rustle of bedcovers as you turned over to face him in the dark and he did the same despite not being able to see you. You were quiet for a long moment before finally finding your voice. “I saw my brother,” you supplied weakly, “And I had a vision.”

Din wasn’t even sure which of those two threads to pull on first. “What?” he asked lamely.

“My brother appeared to me through the Force and he showed me my future. Just flashes of things that I’m trying to sort out, but I can’t.” Your voice cracked over the last word. For a moment, he didn’t think you would say anything more, though he hoped you would continue because there was so much that he didn’t understand. “The Force gave me two versions of my future; each completely different, both so tempting. One that I always thought I needed. The other was something I want so desperately but shouldn’t. I– I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think.”

Din had no words for that. He knew nothing of visions of the future. Hell, until that moment he had no idea the Force worked like that. But he could hear the anguish in your voice. You needed some sort of reassurance. Something he wasn’t sure he was qualified to provide. Finding himself at a loss, he did the only thing he could think of and reached out, offering you his hand. Without even being able to see him, you placed your own in his, slotting your fingers between his and letting your hands rest together on your cot.

“Mando?” you called to him quietly, your voice heavy with sleep.

“Yes?”

“I like the way your voice sounds without your helmet. It’s so nice,” you whispered, sighing around your last words.

He didn’t know what to say to that either, so he squeezed your hand in response. “You’re delirious, _cyar’ika_. Go to sleep.”  
“Okay,” you mumbled back to him.

Hardly a minute passed before your breathing evened out. He could feel your steady, warm exhalations ghosting over his hand. You’d exhausted yourself – in an attempt to help him – and he was grateful you were finally resting peacefully.

Din, however, remained wide awake well into the night, simultaneously trying to ignore the electricity passing between your clasped hands, stoking the startling sense of connection he felt towards you, and attempting to memorize the unexpected feeling of your soft skin against his. He’d been too focused to appreciate the sensation when he’d offered his hand and his memories to you, but now your palm resting against his was all he could concentrate on. Well, that and the thoughts of temples and ghosts and visions tumbling in his mind. But he couldn’t make sense of any of that. Not without you. That would have to wait until morning.

Din woke to find your hand still in his grasp. He reluctantly removed himself from your hold, careful not to disturb you so you could continue resting. After quietly dressing and strapping on his armor in the dark, he opened the Child’s carrier to find him rousing from his own slumber. His dark orbs blinked up at Din as he let out a tiny yawn. Figuring the kid would enjoy running around with the village children for a bit before the trip back to the _Crest_ , they slipped out of the room and down to the bustling village center.

Unsurprisingly, he was right. Even as the first rays of light peaked over the cliffs, most of the children were already awake. Some helped their parents with preparing the morning meal or daily chores, but the younger ones raced over to play with his foundling with Ro leading the way.

“Don’t cause any trouble for once,” he instructed pointlessly. The kid ignored him, turning away in favor of being showered with attention from the other children.

Din sat on that same rock near the river as a couple of days prior and watched his foundling play, happy and carefree like a child should be. Nin’ak had mentioned that the Mandalorian visitor had been the talk of the village, but no one dared approach him. That wasn’t exactly unusual. Most of the time his armor kept others away, though sometimes it drew a crowd. He was grateful that it was the former that morning.

It didn’t, however, keep you away.

You soundlessly sat next to him, crossing your legs beneath you. He almost wouldn’t have noticed your gentle presence save for the brush of your shoulder against his pauldron. He examined your features as you drew your shawl tighter around your shoulders.

“Didn’t think you’d be up so early,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I feel better today.” You made a genuine attempt to keep your tone light, but there was still an edge to it.

“Are you lying to me?”

You finally looked at him, a sad smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Maybe a little.”

“What’s bothering you?”

“I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

“You said you knew where your master is,” he tried again, “Where are we headed next?”

“Lah’mu.” You said the word slowly, letting each syllable roll off your tongue, as if testing the truth of it. He couldn’t help the disgruntled noise he made. “Have you heard of it?” you asked with an arched brow.

“Yeah. You’re sure it was Lah’mu.”

“I saw it. Black sand beaches, grassy plains and jagged hills, and the darkest ocean. I know that’s where she is.”

“I believe you,” he assured you, “But that’s a notoriously difficult planet to navigate to.” 

“Probably a good place to hide.”

“If you never want to be found.”

“Let’s hope Master Zarichi isn’t too displeased when I show up.” You sighed deeply, letting all of the air escape your lungs, and buried your face in your hands.

“Why wouldn’t she want to see you?”

You lifted your head only to gaze forlornly at the busy villagers surrounding you. He’d all but forgotten they were even there. “I told you, we didn’t exactly part on good terms. But no matter what happens between us, I’m sure she’ll help you.”

“What about you?”

“If she’ll have me, I’ll stay with her. That’s where I’m supposed to be.” You tried to say it confidently, but your face fell, and he knew you didn’t quite believe yourself  
“I thought you saw two versions of your future.”

“I did,” you said quietly, your jaw tightening. “But in one, I saw myself with Master Zarichi on Lah’mu. And I stayed there with her.”

“Is that the future you want?” he challenged.

“Yes.”

“You’re lying again,” he tried to keep his voice even, but there was roughness to it that wasn’t from the modulator. “What was the second future?”

“I’ve never lied to you,” you countered, ignoring his question. But Din _knew_ you were leaving something out. While what you reported about the temple was certainly strange, it didn’t seem to warrant your reaction from the night before. You understood the Force – visions and ghosts shouldn’t have been completely new to you. So, whatever you saw in the second half of your vision was terrifying you.

And now, perhaps because of it, he could feel you pulling away from him. Begrudgingly, he decided it was best to leave the subject alone for the time being. You would tell him when you wanted, or you wouldn’t at all. Maybe he’d been wrong to assume that you would want to share something like this with him in the first place. Maybe it would be better this way.

As if sensing the need for a distraction, the baby waddled up to the rock, greeting you happily. You lifted him into your lap and stroked the tip of his ear. Whatever happened next, the two of you together like that was a sight Din wouldn’t soon forget. The kid’s big black eyes narrowed as he clawed at your neckline.

“Where’s your mother’s moon?” Din asked out of genuine curiosity when he realized what the Child was looking for. In all the time he’d known you, he’d never seen you without it.

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied tersely. Your response to his simple question seemed unreasonable, so he pushed further.

“You never take that thing off,” he said, “Something must have happened to it.”

“I said don’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“I don’t understand–”

“I gave it up!” you exclaimed hoarsely, “Okay?” You handed the baby to him and started to walk away. He jumped up and placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping your forward motion and forcing you to turn back to him.

“What does that mean?

“I had to make an offering so I could receive the vision. That was all I had.” You wouldn’t look at him while you spoke. “Don’t worry about it.”

You halfheartedly attempted to shrug his hand off, but he held you securely in front of him. “You did that for us?”

“I didn’t do it for you,” you said shortly, shaking your head at him, “It was inevitable. I would’ve made it here on my own eventually.”

“If that was true, why didn’t you just say so?”

“I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Really?” he clipped, ignoring the fact that he felt absolutely gutted that you’d given up the last connection you had to your mother. He knew you were technically right – you’d set your sights on that temple long before you met him – but now that your paths had crossed, your journeys seemed inexplicably entwined. He felt your sacrifice was just as much for him as if was for yourself, and the glossy look in your eyes told him he was right. “What happened in there? What happened to you?” he pleaded.

“Nothing you need to know, Mando.” You wrestled yourself from his grasp, denying him the truth once more. 

… . …

You stomped over to Nin’ak where she knelt in the middle of the riverbed’s surprisingly lush garden.

“Can I help?” you asked even as you dropped to your knees without waiting for an answer.

“Of course, dear,” she said, handing you a spare trowel. You worked silently for some time, digging up oblong tubers and helping her fill the large woven basket. All the while, you could tell she was waiting for you to speak. “Is this your only garden? What do you do if there are floods?” you asked, wanting to avoid the topic you dreaded most.

“This is our only garden, but it’s quite large, isn’t it? Still, we keep vast stores deep within the cliffs. You can never be too careful with that sort of thing,” she explained, indulging you, “In my long life, there have only been a few years where things were a bit dire for our liking. Otherwise, our hard work has always given us plentiful bounties for our small numbers. We are lucky; these lands were blessed by ancient spirits.”

“I believe that,” you grumbled more to yourself than her.

“I wonder, though, why you would want to discuss vegetables,” she asked with a lilt to her voice. You looked at her out of the corner of your eye only to be met with a knowing smile even as her hands never ceased their diligent work. “Your Mandalorian is worried about you.”

“He’s _not_ mine.” You ripped a yam out of the ground, sending clumps of dirt flying. You mumbled a small apology and Nin’ak gave a hearty laugh.

“Oh, my dear. Tell me,” she asked as her mirth ebbed into something serious, “What did you find in that temple.”

You stopped your work, resting your dirty hands palms up on the tops of your thighs. “I found myself. And then my future.”

“And one of those things is displeasing to you.” Her hands idled as she offered you her full attention.

“I don’t know,” you started weakly. That much, at least, was true. “I saw two drastically different options for my life. Two completely separate paths.”

“How do you feel about those paths?”

You took a deep breath, rubbing the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of your tunic, as you tried to form some sort of answer for her. You’d been fighting with these feelings ever since you fell at the foot of the golden altar the day before. You’d foolishly hoped a good night’s rest and the morning sun would shine a new light on your problem, but you had yet to construct any meaningful opinion on the matter. Not one that was helpful. “One was what I always imagined for myself. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was surreal to see it. To know that it was possible. It’s the path I’ve been walking for most of my life and it felt familiar. Safe.”

“And the other?”

“Anything but safe. It– It woke something in me that I didn’t know was there.” Your voice shook around your words, threatening to give out at any moment. “Or, maybe it was simmering just below the surface all this time, but it feels new. It feels dangerous.”

“Yet, it tempts you.”

“Yes,” you admitted quietly. “But it can’t happen. Not the way–” _Not the way you wanted_. Your chin dropped to your chest as your eyes fell shut against the fresh tears that threatened to cascade down your face whenever you imagined yourself with that man and those two smiling kids – your kids. You knew who you wanted that man to be. But you refused to cry over an impossible future. “To choose that path would be to walk into the unknown. I don’t think I could do it.”

“You are strong with the Force. I knew that from the moment I saw you.” Nin’ak said in a fierce tone you’d never heard from her. She stood and brushed the dirt from her hands on her smock before extending one to you. As you stood in front of her, she gingerly placed two soothing hands on your face to ensure that you would look at her as she spoke her next words. “The Force will guide you where you want to go. All you must do is take one step at a time. Your path is up to you but promise me you will not choose out of fear.” She swiped an errant tear from your cheek.

“Fear is the path to the darkside,” you supplied, an old teaching pushing its way to the front of your mind. She nodded, humming her agreement, and you wrapped your hands around her wrists, not wanting her to let go just yet. “Do you have it? The Force?”

“No,” she said with a sad, breathy laugh, “Not like you. Though it lives within us all. It binds us together in ways we’ll never understand. My grandmother used to tell me that and one day I will teach my Ro. That is, if she ever sits still enough to listen.”

“Your grandmother was a wise woman, as are you,” you stressed, “I’m so thankful to have met you.”

“You, my dear, need not be afraid anymore. You have everything you need, as you are in this and every moment, to succeed. You may not believe me right now, but I hope that you will one day soon.” She let go of you and your hands fell to your side. “But I’m afraid you must not stay here any longer. It is time for your journey to continue – wherever _you_ decide to go.”

You nodded your agreement, once again finding that Nin’ak’s astute insight had stolen all of your words.

“I would, however, be remiss not to feed you first.” She linked her arm with yours and guided you towards the grand staircase. “Come along.”

The long trek back to the _Razor Crest_ was silent. Even after the morning meal and your final bleary-eyed farewell to Nin’ak and Ro, you and Mando had yet to speak to each other again. You knew you were unfairly short with him earlier, but you just couldn’t help it. Beyond the vague descriptions you’d given him and Nin’ak, you couldn’t explain the things you saw in the sanctum to them. It was as if speaking it aloud would make it seem too true. You tried to tell yourself that you didn’t owe him an explanation for any of it. That it didn’t matter that he was the closest thing to a friend you’d had in years. That you’d shared your secrets and bared your soul to him nor that he’d done the same for you.

You had seen your future. Mando was not part of it.

It shouldn’t have mattered, but that tiny detail cut deep into your soul. You didn’t know the man in your vision. You couldn’t even discern his face despite your best effort. But you knew it couldn’t be Mando. He walked a different path than you. One he had no intention of straying from. He was a Mandalorian – he had his creed and his foundling. That was his priority. His only priority. He’d told you as much on more than one occasion with unwavering resolve. He would take you to Lah’mu, find the answers he was looking for, and the two of you would part ways as it was always meant to be. _That_ you did see in your vision. 

It would be better to distance yourself from the man now before your growing affection for him caused you anymore pain.

It had happened so slowly and then all at once. So much so that you didn’t know you were falling in love.

Now that it was impossible, you could put a name to it. You were falling in love with the Mandalorian. Perhaps it was easier to admit to yourself now that you knew without a doubt that it was not meant to be. Before you could even finish your descent, you were being pulled back to solid ground. And that was where you belonged.

In your exhaustion the night before, you’d sought out his comfort, forgetting yourself for a lovely moment. Then, the sharp, painful realization that you had to accept that Mando wasn’t in either of your futures bored its way into your mind the moment he’d released your hand from his grasp that morning. _It couldn’t be him_. That thought clawed its way deep into your subconscious, refusing to be dislodged no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself that it shouldn’t bother you, that you never should’ve entertained the idea in the first place. You had to let that half-formed fantasy slip through your fingers before you could ever hold onto it.

And it hurt. Much more than you should have allowed.

Now you needed to put a whole galaxy worth of distance between yourself and the Mandalorian. For your own good.

A true Jedi didn’t form attachments. That was a lesson you needed to head.

Because, as you decided right then and there, marching angrily across the dry canyon of Vrogas Vas, that man – _Din_ – didn’t matter either. You didn’t know him, and as enticing as the idea of a love like that was, you didn’t want him. And you knew you couldn’t let yourself hold onto a naive dream like that. Choosing love and attachment meant abandoning your commitment to the Jedi code. To the light. It would mean giving into the pull of the darkside you’ve always felt deep within you. The same pull that had led you to join the rebellion and to seek revenge over finishing your training. The whole reason you’d spent the last few years searching for your former master was to find a way back to the light. To feel whole again. To have a purpose.

For the briefest of moments, stolen from you all too soon by the Force itself, you had thought you’d found a balance between the light and dark within you, and you’d felt complete. But it didn’t last long. Not when the Force saw it fit to present you with two opposing futures that shattered your entire sense of self.

You’d promised Nin’ak you would not live in fear, and you would do your best to keep your word. You told yourself that your decision to give up the possibility of that second future was born out of necessity not fear. You saw a future where you had a purpose in life, one that would provide a meaningful sense of responsibility and belonging, and you needed to see what you started all of those years ago through to the end.

You could push away any thoughts that told you otherwise for as long as you needed.

The three of you hadn’t stopped once all day, and you wearily trudged a path ahead of Mando. He always followed you and the kid. Like the leader of a pack of loth-wolves, he liked to keep the two of you in sight at all times. You tried not to read too much into that.

You’d grown used to sharing companionable silences with Mando, and although the quiet that hung between you now was anything but amicable, you didn’t mind it. Your quiet trek had given you the time you needed to think and center yourself. Luckily, your journey was entirely downhill, and what took you nearly a day and a half before was cut down to one long day of walking. Before you knew it, the narrow slot canyons opened to reveal the sprawling desert valley. The steel of Mando’s ship glinted under the bright sun, now only a short distance away. 

You could survive a few more days in hyperspace with the Mandalorian. Then you would find Master Zarichi on Lah’mu, and part as nothing more than unlikely friends. You glanced to where the Child sat restlessly in his carrier. He’d napped after his morning of play, but now he was wide awake, beseeching you with eyes that asked for your help and comfort. You only hoped that in the end the Child would understand. Or quickly forget you.

Your ruminations were suddenly interrupted by an eerily familiar shrieking sound. The noise slowly grew louder as if coming straight for you. You stopped walking to listen, as did the perceptive bounty hunter, and your heart dropped out of your chest when you placed the noise.

“Mando–”

“Run!”

The two of you took off at a sprint, the baby’s carrier speeding along next to Mando.

The screeching noise was almost deafening as two black TIE fighters cut through the sky above you, drawing a line perpendicular to your path above the wide mouth of the valley. In practiced formation, they turned sharply, and headed straight for the _Crest_.

“Shit!” Mando huffed out beside you. “I should’ve brought the jetpack.”

“You have a jetpack?” you yelled at him. “That would’ve been helpful all week!”

“I forgot it,” he said gruffly, and you made a face at him even as you kept your pace. “It’s new!”

“Gods, Mando,” you groaned exasperatedly.

“Shut up and run!”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

The first blast struck the ground much too close to you for your liking, spitting up a cloud of rocks and dust sizzling from the heat of the plasma bolt. You ran as fast as you could, pushing your endurance past your limit while jumping over stray rocks and dodging the larger boulders as best as you could, never more grateful for the Force to cushion your jarring movements. The rugged, sandy terrain of the valley ensured it was not a straight path to the ship nor an easy one, but you had to hope that would only confuse the gunners aiming at you.

Another blast hit nearby, rocking the ground beneath you, and you thanked the maker that Imps were notoriously bad shots. You wondered why they aren’t shooting at the still ship rather than three moving targets when it dawned on you that they weren’t actually trying to kill you, just hit near enough to scare you.

They wanted the three of you alive.

For what reason, you could only imagine.

You had a moment of reprieve as the starfighters curved across the sky, clearly intent on making another pass over the three of you, until an enormous boulder blocked your path downhill. While you instinctively went left around it, Mando and the kid went right, effectively separating you.

Another blast shot through the air toward you and you alone. Using the Force to shield yourself from it, you froze the plasma bolt in midair and redirected it. It exploded against the canyon walls rather hitting the ground much too close to you.

As you narrowly saved yourself, you almost failed to see the second shot from the laser cannons aimed at Mando and the Child.

Even reacting as quickly as you did, you couldn’t stop the bolt completely. You adjusted its course telepathically at the last possible moment, so it narrowly missed Mando and the baby. However, it struck the ground near enough that it sent the closer of your two companions flying through the air.

A loud, metallic _crack_ rang out across the valley when steel met solid rock.

Or maybe it just seemed that loud in your head as Mando’s limp body was the only thing you could focus on. He hit one of the massive boulders dotting the landscape _hard_ and dropped lifelessly to the ground. For much too long a moment, you were frozen in place, unable to react, unable to even think, until you saw him start to stir and relief washed over you.

You rushed to the Child’s carrier, manually lowering the shields to check him for injuries. He was shaken and scared, but unscathed, so you shut him inside and turned your attention to the Mandalorian sprawled out on the ground and struggling to stand. Leave it to Imps to almost hit their target when you were certain they were supposed to miss.

You helped Mando to his feet, supporting him as best you could with an arm around his middle and one of his draped across your shoulders. He leaned into you and – stars – you didn’t know if it was the Beskar or _him_ , but he was heavy. The three of you continued your dash to the ship, albeit at an agonizingly slower pace. One of the TIE fighters peeled off, descending into the valley not far from the _Crest_. The top hatch opened just as you reached Mando’s ship and you quickly decided you’d rather not stick around to see out who got out.

Mando lowered the ramp and you all but dragged him into the hull of the _Crest_ , refusing to let go of him until you knew the three of you were safely onboard. Or at least as safe as you could be with Imperial TIE fighters shooting at you.

You followed Mando up the ladder to the cabin, hauling the kid up with you, and hovered cautiously behind him as he attempted to get the ship off the ground. You knew he was dazed from the blast – it would’ve been a miracle if he wasn’t concussed – and he held his side as he struggled to remain upright.

“Do you– Know how to fly?” he asked with a gravelly voice, peering at you over his shoulder.  
“No. Rhys always flew.”

He groaned and stumbled forward, placing two hands on the console to stay standing. You quickly moved to his side, throwing his arm around your shoulder and letting him lean into you. “You’re going to learn today.”

“What about–”

“After. You have to get us off world – and _fast_.”

He unceremoniously dropped into your usual seat and you scanned over his body, somewhat mollified when you didn’t see any patches of blood seeping through his thick layers. Although that might’ve been worse if it meant the injuries were all internal. You weren’t a healer. Beyond simple field dressings, you had no idea how to handle something like that. And Mando… he was all steel. You’d always assumed he was just as strong on the inside. Seeing him hurt was terrifying.

He lifted an arm and pointed back to the controls. “Hit– Hit these switches– In the exact order I tell you,” he stuttered over labored breaths.

You managed to take off following his instructions, but, unsurprisingly, the TIE fighters followed you into space. A volley of blasts rocked the ship dead on, and a single shrill alarm rang out.  
“Shit–” Mando muttered. “The blast shields are down.”

“What do I do?” you asked, hoping to keep your panic from your voice.

Before he could answer you, a blinking light indicated someone was hailing you over a closed communications channel. Mando leaned forward and opened it. The expressionless black mask of an Imperial pilot stared back at you.

“What do you want?” he said, his voice straining around every word as he shifted closer to the holo.

“You know what we want,” the static voice of the pilot supplied. “Your shields are down, and you have nowhere to run. Moff Gideon is looking for you, Mando. We’re here to escort the _Razor Crest_ back to Nevarro. You must surrender the Child immediately.”

Banging his clenched fist against the console, he canceled the holo.

“What does that mean?”

“Ignore them. Get ready to jump to lightspeed.”

“What are they talking about?”

“Ignore them!” he shouted. His outburst surprised you; he’d never raised his voice at you like that before. But as the situation deteriorated around you, you didn’t have it in you to care much about it. You did your best to stay out of range as you flew and prepped for lightspeed, but another blast hit the ship and a third alarm indicated critical damage to the left engine. Mando cursed through his modulator. “Change of plans. We’re not going to make it far. Pull up the star map.”

With no other options, you did as he instructed. Setting new coordinates for the planet he selected, Besberra, you made the jump to lightspeed.

“Let’s hope – _fuck – the _Crest_ holds up through hyperspace,” he murmured quietly behind you, slumping heavily against his seat._

__

__

Mando, let’s hope you hold up through hyperspace,” you retorted as you flicked the autopilot switch just as you’d watched him do dozens of times. 

“I’m fine.” The man was insufferably stubborn. 

You spun around in your chair just as he demagnetized his dust-covered cuirass and pulled it off, letting it crash to the ground without any of the reverence he usually held for his armor. He unclipped the holster slung across his waist and it fell to the wayside as well. When he lifted his layers of coverings, you found that one side of his abdomen, unprotected by any Beskar, was completely swollen and discolored a dark, angry purple. It spread out across his stomach and wrapped around to his back. Before you could so much as gasp, the baby climbed out of his carrier and scurried over to his father. 

“No– You’re not doing that again, kid. And neither are you.” He demanded gruffly, pointing an orange-tipped finger at you. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, wondering just how hard he hit his head. Electing to ignore his strange commands, you refocused on his injury. “Where’s your medpac?” 

“Down in the hold–” he grunted as he shifted in his seat “–in the pack I carried. 

Without waiting for any further clarification, you hurried off in search of the medical supplies. When you returned, you knelt next to his chair and shook out the contents until you found what you needed. Batting his hand away when he attempted to take the supplies from you, you carefully cleaned and disinfected the wounded area as he held back his coverings before applying the largest bacta patch in his kit, gingerly soothing it over his abdomen. 

“See, I’m fine,” he sighed as the cooling bacta hit his skin. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him. “And now you’re speaking to me again. 

“That’s one way to look at it." 

He continued, ignoring your sarcasm. “That was impressive, what you did back there. You saved us.” 

“They almost got you,” you implored. 

“But they didn’t. Because you’re– You’re impressive." 

_You tried to brush off the compliment but found yourself moving closer to him instead. “Now I know you have brain damage,” you said, reaching up to trace the arc of the cheek of his helmet. You gave him a weak smile, surely failing to offer the small comfort you wanted to give him._

Turning your attention back to his injury, your fingertips left his helmet and pressed gently against his ribcage through the bacta patch in a few different places, satisfied when he hardly winced. “Possible concussion aside, I don’t think you have any broken bones so you should be fine,” you assessed soberly, “But you really scared me, Mando.” 

The thought of losing him was practically unbearable even as you knew you needed to prepare yourself to part with him in the upcoming days. Pushing that thought from your mind, you relaxed a little next to him, sitting back on your calves. You fiddled with the edges of the patch, making sure it was as secure as possible and tried not to let your eyes linger over the soft expanse of his stomach, rising and falling gently with his every breath. He was a hardened warrior, no doubt, but there was something soft about him underneath the Beskar. Leaving the bacta patch, your fingers trailed lightly over his skin as if moving on their own, exploring him, until a gloved hand caught your wrist. 

“I’m sorry–” 

“It’s okay,” he promised, his voice even deeper than usual. His hand, warm even beneath the leather, slid up to hold yours, “Just too much.” 

“Oh,” you sighed, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“That’s just it–” Something on the console beeped, cutting off his sentence and stealing your attention. He squeezed your hand once before letting go. “You need to adjust the course. There’s no astromech so you’ll have to do it manually.” 

“Your no droids policy, while perhaps understandable, is now my biggest inconvenience.” 

_“Stop whining, _cyar’ika_.” _

__

__

He walked you through a series of complicated calculations and adjustments until the Crest’s course was perfectly set. The whole ordeal made your head spin and you couldn’t imagine him doing the same every time he flew. When you faced him again, he motioned for you to stay in your seat. “We’ll exit the hyperlane soon, stay there. I’m fine, really. Just get us to Besberra.” 

“Okay, I can do it.” The words were meant to reassure you just as much as him. 

“I know you can.” 

You offered him a shadow of a smile. Seeing the Child at his feet, his tiny arms wrapped around one of his father’s legs, you picked him up and placed him in Mando’s lap. He was much happier sitting on his chest, a hand holding one of Mando’s fingers. With his free hand, he pointed at the console again and you snapped out of it. You faced the transparisteel once more, watching as the galaxy curved around the ship and bathed the cabin in streaks of starlight, and mentally prepared yourself to fly. A tense silence fell over the cabin, as if now that the three of you were relatively safe, the unease from earlier could resurface. You swore you could sense his agitation searching for the right words behind you. 

“Tell me more about your vision,” he attempted quietly. 

You strained your neck to look back at him. “You’re only asking because you think I’ll tell you since I feel bad that you’re hurt.” 

“Maybe.” He laughed lightly. “Why won’t you tell me about what happened in there.” 

“You weren’t in my future, Mando,” you said sadly, “So it’s nothing you need to worry about.” 

You didn’t say anything more than that and he didn’t press the issue. 

Considering it was your first time landing a starship, you thought you did a decent job setting the _Crest_ down on Besbarrian soil. That didn’t make it any less rough of a landing, but you afforded yourself that small consolation anyway. 

“Not bad,” Mando praised evenly. 

“How did you know about this place?” You stared out at the hulking metal structure built into the base of the mountain before you. It was well hidden behind the plentiful trees and shrubbery covering the mountain, but from this distance, it was hard to miss. 

“This is an old Mandalorian base, but it was decommissioned decades ago. Last time it was used was probably the Clone Wars. I’ve never been here but I saw it on some records a long time ago,” Mando explained, “I– I didn’t know where else to go. _Kriffing_ Vrogas Vas isn’t exactly in a well populated sector. Hopefully there are still some leftover supplies to fix the ship.” 

“And if there’s not?” Luck hadn’t exactly been on your side the past few days. 

“We’ll improvise.” He stood and replaced his cuirass. You were relieved to see that he moved much easier now. “You stay here with the kid. I’ll go check it out.” 

“But you’re hurt,” you protested. 

“Bacta is already working. I’m fine.” 

“You keep saying that.” You sighed but acquiesced as he handed you the toddler. “You stubborn son of a bantha,” you mumbled under your breath, hoping his helmet wouldn’t pick up your quiet curses. If he heard you, he didn’t say anything. 

Remaining in the cockpit, you listened as the ramp lowered and closed again before Mando came into view once more. Holding the baby to your chest, you watched him walk away from the ship towards the old bunker, wondering what he would find. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> Cyar'ika: darling, beloved, sweetheart
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	8. Security

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions mount as the three of you seek refuge at an old Mandalorian base on Besberra, but you finally find the strength to open up to Mando.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I’m not even going to apologize for the word count on this one. I was going to split this into two chapters but I really wanted to give you some softness in this update because I needed some fluff in my life. And it is s o f t. 
> 
> Thank you again for all your wonderful comments and kudos! I love you guys so much!
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** It’s just angst and pining again but with fluff. Mild language.

It was the middle of the day cycle on Besberra and the twin suns shone bright overhead, reflecting harshly off the white snowdrifts. It must’ve snowed recently, though all that remained now were patches of muddy remnants. Din felt the soft crunch of the melting ice beneath his boots with every step. After spending an entire day hiking across Vrogas Vas only to then be shot at by Imperials, he felt his exhaustion in every step as well.

If his memory served him, Din had once read that the decommissioned bunker was once a base for generations of Mandalorians but had fallen out of use as peace made a home in the Cegul sector, now a quiet, forgotten corner of the galaxy rimward of Wild Space. As there was no need to maintain a base where the Mandalorians would not find war, it was strategically abandoned. He’d noted the Besberrain hideout’s existence absentmindedly and never thought about it again, having had no reason to do so. 

And yet, there he was walking up to the base and hoping that his salvation awaited him inside. The universe, the gods, the Force – whatever one might call it – seemed intent on playing cruel tricks on him as of late. Or, at least, steeping his life in irony.

While not ideal, this was the only viable option considering the significant damage to the _Razor Crest_. There was a slim chance the old gunship would make it much further, and it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. Not with you and the Child on board. Now he just hoped that in their exit the Mandalorians who’d vacated the base had left something behind he could use to fix the ship. He was almost certain there was a hanger detailed on the blueprints he saw once. Although, that was decades ago now. Still, there had to be _something_ left to help the three of you. 

Fixing his ship was all he could afford to focus on at that moment. Otherwise, his mind raced with questions about Gideon – who’d apparently survived his TIE crashing headfirst on Nevarro – or it wandered traitorously to thoughts of you.

 _You weren’t in my future, Mando. So it’s nothing you need to worry about_.

He knew he wasn’t in your future. He had already resigned himself to that fate. But your words had cut into him in a way he didn’t think he was capable of being hurt anymore. He’d spent decades crafting a shield around his heart to match the armor he wore, and in a few short weeks, you’d broken through all of his defenses. Any idea he might’ve entertained about the three of you staying together, however self-indulgent, was rendered futile with those two sentences. 

It was the reminder he needed. He would fix the ship, take you to Lah’mu, deal with Gideon, and then find the Child’s people. That was the way it was meant to be, and he knew it. 

The blast door at the base’s entrance opened with relative ease, almost as if it had been greased recently instead of sitting idle for a century. Maybe if he hadn’t been dead on his feet, he would’ve thought more of it. He would’ve done the obvious and flicked through a few HUD filters to scan for lifeforms. Instead, it wasn’t until he heard the low hum of life vibrating off the cavernous walls that he realized the base wasn’t abandoned at all.

It was occupied by Mandalorians. _His people_. 

When he stepped into the main chamber of the underground hideout, the last thing he expected to be greeted by was the sight of dozens of Mandalorians. Most roamed about, unflinching at the new arrival, too preoccupied with their own work, although some paused to look at him, curious about the newcomer. Din didn’t recognize any of them but didn’t particularly mind that fact as he was so relieved to see anyone donning _beskar’gam_. That was until a familiar booming voice called out to him.

“Djarin!” He turned to find Paz Vizsla stalking towards him, and, for the first time in his life, Din was relieved to see the man alive and well. They’d grown up together in the fighting corps, but always saw each other more as rivals than friends. “Where’s your foundling?” he demanded gruffly.

“Safe.” That answer didn’t seem to satisfy Vizsla, though nothing ever did. “He’s on my ship. I didn’t expect to find all of you here. It looked abandoned.”

“Good. That’s the idea.”

“Is the rest of the Tribe here?” he asked, scanning the room for anyone else he knew from his brief visits to the Covert on Nevarro. 

“What’s left of it. We scattered after the mess on Nevarro and laid low for a while. Regrouped on Sinta IV but that location was compromised. We relocated here shortly after.” Guilt washed over Din as he listened to Vizsla recount what his Tribe went through because of his actions. He was responsible for revealing the location of the Covert, for the deaths of his fellow Mandalorians, and for every struggle they’d endured since then. Before he could say anything, Paz continued. “We will remember them, so they are eternal. This is the way.” 

“This is the way,” Din echoed. His voice sounded hollow through his vocoder. Vizsla clapped a hand on his shoulder, signaling the end of that discussion and, possibly, his forgiveness.

“Is our _alor_ here?” Din inquired, changing the subject. He’d often wondered if she’d survived Gideon’s troopers and finally left Nevarro behind for good. More often than not, she was his only point of contact with the Tribe, and she was the only person he wanted to discuss his current predicament with. 

“Just joined us last week,” he responded. Vizsla gestured towards a wide hallway to his left. “The armory is that way.”

When Din entered the armory, warm from the fires of the burning forge, he was met with the sight of dozens of pieces of expertly crafted armor. The new pieces were doubtlessly forged from old Beskar; a custom intended to carry the history and memories of the Mandalorians who donned it before through countless generations.

“We are rebuilding,” an even voice announced to him, “As is our way.”

“Good,” he answered. His _alor_ emerged from deeper in the room, the tools of her trade in hand. “And everyone else here? Where did all of these people come from?”

“Other Tribes occupied this base before we arrived. It was an alliance born of necessity, but it has served us well. As we share similar values, we’ve known only peace between our people.” She moved throughout the room with focused intent as she examined a holo of a design for a left pauldron before pouring molten metal into a mold with an expert hand. Leaving it to cool and set, she placed her tongs on the worktop next to Din, finally looking him over. “What happened here?” she pointed to the deep scratch on his dusty cuirass. 

“Nexu.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“I found a woman like the kid,” he disclosed.

“That is interesting. But why are you here now?” 

“She trained to be a Jedi, but her master might know more about the Child’s people,” he began, “We were going to find her next when we were attacked by Moff Gideon’s people on Vrogas Vas. My ship sustained severe damage.”

“Moff Gideon is alive and you have found a Jedi. It would seem you’ve had an exciting few weeks, even for a bounty hunter.” Never one to speak without careful thought, she paused to consider her next words. “She is with you now?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to meet this woman.”

“You want me to bring an outsider here?” Not expecting to find his tribe, he hadn’t yet considered what to do with you.

“Yes, I do,” she answered evenly. “It’s not like you haven’t done so before.” That much was true, though she’d been the only one left at the Covert on Nevarro when he’d dared to send Cara, Karga, and the Child to his tribe. Still, revealing the location of his people was dangerous under any circumstances. “If you trust her, please bring her to me.”

“I do.”

“Then it is settled.” She picked up her tools and moved back to the cooling mold. “But move your ship first. We can’t risk revealing our location to anyone no matter how remote this planet may be. I believe you’ll find a docking bay of appropriate size available. There is not much by way of supplies, but enough for you to start work tomorrow.”

If Din’s presence had caused a minor interruption in the flow of normal activities around the base, yours brought it to a standstill. The moment you stepped out of the hanger and into the main chamber, dozens of T-shaped visors were trained on you. After glancing at the kid where he sat upright and intrigued in his carrier, Din turned to you.

“Stay close.”

“I’m with you,” you assured him. “I won’t get lost. I can tell you apart from the others.” You tapped his mudhorn sigil with your index and offered a weak smile. That wasn’t his worry, but you knew that.

Din pushed through the crowd of silent Mandalorians, hoping to lead you and the Child to the armory without causing a commotion. When he spotted Vizsla standing in front of the hallway that led to the armory, he knew he was asking for too much. Especially when Vizsla fixed his stare on the lightsaber at your hip, only half shielded by your robes.

“Why have you brought a Jedi here?” His booming voice resounded throughout the hall. Low whispers of _Jetii_ hummed behind him.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” Din demanded. 

“My ancestor, the great Pre Vizsla once wielded the Darksaber against the Jedi sorcerers. He sought to end them, as was necessary to protect Mandalore and the entire galaxy.” He stalked towards you, practically growling, “You are an enemy to the people of Mandalore.” 

Din placed himself in front of you, his cuirass clinking against Vizsla’s blue one. His only goal had been to draw the man’s attention away from you, and it worked.

“First you work with Imperials and now a Jedi,” Paz spat, “Where do your loyalties lie?”

Before he could respond, you pushed at the heart of Din’s chestplate with a solid hand. He stepped back, hesitantly allowing you to place yourself in the vacant space between the two Mandalorians.

“Hear me when I say that I am no Jedi,” you announced. Your voice was firm, but there was a weariness to it, as if you were tired of reminding people of that fact. Or perhaps just tired of reminding yourself. “And I’m no enemy to you.”

The normally immovable Paz Vizsla visibly shifted under your stare.

A stern voice cut the tension, “That’s enough for now.” 

Their _alor_ stood at the mouth of the hallway leading to her armory watching you confront Vizsla. Without another word, she turned her back to the crowd and disappeared. Din placed a hand on the small of your back, gently pushing you forward. 

“Follow her,” he commanded softly, never taking his eyes off Vizsla.

When you’d moved far enough out of the way, Din grabbed the larger man by the collar of his cuirass, drawing him close to ensure he heard his next words. “Do not raise your voice at her again,” he said darkly through gritted teeth. He threw Din’s hand off but offered no response. He knew Vizsla heard his warning. He only hoped he’d head it. 

… . …

You followed the Mandalorian with the golden helm and fur cape into what appeared to be an armory. It was significantly warmer than the rest of the bunker, and you found yourself drawn to the blue fires of her forge. Like Mando, her dark visor gave nothing away, and you felt the woman’s appraisal of you more than you saw it. However, you did notice when her gaze flicked downwards to the baby in his carrier as he floated in beside his father. As happy as ever, he waved to the woman with three claws and gave a toothy grin.

“Your foundling looks stronger than the last time I saw him.”

“Yes,” Din replied softly.

“However,” she continued, looking at you once more, “I am more interested in you.”

“What would you like to know?” you asked, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt. You knew enough about Mandalorians, now supplemented by what Mando had told you about his people during long days in hyperspace, to know it wouldn’t help to appear weak. It was the reason you’d defended yourself to the other Mandalorian just moments ago. Now, you wanted to impress this woman as well. Her stoic presence was enough to tell you that there was a reason Mando brought you to her. She led his people. 

Pushing through your exhaustion, you answered her carefully phrased questions. She was an intimidating woman, but you spoke without fear or hesitation, finding that she was surprisingly easy to talk to as you told her who you were and detailed your journey over the past couple of weeks. Well, most of your journey. There were certain parts you opted to leave between you and Mando.

“And you know where your master is now?” There was a hint of disbelief in her tone.

“She’s on Lah’mu. I’m certain of it,” you answered. “I think she will be of more help to Mando than I am.”

Her helmet emitted a soft hum. Mando fidgeted uncharacteristically behind you. You peered over your shoulder to find him staring down at his boots, shoulders tense beneath his armor, and you wondered if something you’d said had upset him. He’d been noticeably quiet the entire time you answered her questions.

“And you,” she turned her attention to her fellow Mandalorian, “Once you deliver her to Lah’mu, what are your plans for the Child and the former Imperials?”

“The kid’s not safe anywhere,” he started, “They’re still tracking his chain code.”

“And they will continue to do so until you resolve the matter. What will you do?” she pressed. She was determined to get a better answer out of Mando.

“Protect him,” he said firmly, looking down at the Child. He watched his father from his carrier. He always seemed to know when he was the topic of conversation. “Beyond that…I’m not sure.”

“In a time like this, you’ll do well to consider all of your options,” she said vaguely, her visor trained on you. An ominous feeling settled over you. “But for now, you must fix your ship and rest. Someone will show you to the barracks.”

After stopping by the docked Razor Crest to gather your things, you followed a Mandalorian wearing richly colored green armor through the dizzying maze of passageways connecting different sections of the bunker. The barracks, evidently, were set deep into the mountain. Natural stone walls were interspersed with metal blast shield doors. In fact, everything around you seemed to be made of metal and stone, including the people. 

Each Mandalorian you passed regarded you with caution. The one standing next to you wouldn’t so much as look at you. He hadn’t said a word that wasn’t strictly necessary to you since you’d patched him up in hyperspace.

The young woman guiding you opened a sliding door to an empty bunk room and then departed without so much as a passing glance.

“They don’t like me,” you mused more to yourself than Mando as you entered the room.

“They’re Mandalorians,” he said gruffly, setting down the crate and pack he’s been carrying, “We don’t trust outsiders.”

You were now very much an outsider.

You looked around the room instead of at him, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he included himself in that statement. The room was horribly cramped with four bunks built into the walls, two on each side of the skinny living quarters with a second door presumably leading to a ‘fresher. And that was it. “This is…cozy,” you commented, hoping for humor.

“These are military barracks, not a resort in Canto Bight,” he retorted.

“It’s fine,” you placated, “I’ve seen worse.” You tossed your bag down on one of the bunks, effectively claiming it as your own. With nothing else to do or look at in the sparse, utilitarian room, you turned back to him, watching as he lifted the baby from his carrier. The Child took off exploring the mostly empty room. When he reached the ‘fresher, he lifted a clawed hand and the ‘door slid open. He toddled in, intent of searching every inch of the room.

Mando faced you, hands on his hips. “Did you teach him that?”

“Well, it is possible he saw me do it a couple of times.”

“Great," he sighed, “Now even locked doors won’t stop him.”

“Are you going to be mad at me for everything today?” you snapped, unable to stop yourself.

With his back to you, he started unpacking the few possessions he brought with him. “I’m not mad at you.”

You let out a long, frustrated exhalation, hoping desperately to find some relief from the tension and stress you’d carried with you since leaving the temple and only seemed to worsen with every passing hour. You were tired and you’d fought with him all day. You should’ve just left things at that. Just hours ago, you’d vowed to put space between the two of you in hopes of making your inevitable parting easier on your own heart. But after the firefight on Vrogas Vas, you found yourself wanting to help the stubborn Mandalorian more than ever, for better or worse. And you weren’t so naive that you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you wanted to be near him, if only to remind yourself that he was still alive. That you all were. Steeling yourself, you tried again. “Can we talk about what happened today?” you asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm. 

“What do you mean?” He still wouldn’t look at you.

“Seriously?” you scoffed. At least your tone seemed to capture his attention and he finally looked at you. “Someone is looking for you. For the baby! You almost died today and I almost–” _I almost lost you_ , your mind finished silently.

“That’s not for you to worry about.” At your confused look, he continued. “I’ll go to Nevarro and deal with it myself. I know people there that can help.”

“We can go there next,” you offered, moving closer to him, “I can help you.”

“No,” he responded sternly. There was an edge to his voice that should’ve stopped you, but you pushed on anyway.

“Why not?”

“I said I would get you to your master and I will.”

“But this is important!” you exclaimed.

“I’m aware,” he huffed. “I’ll take you to Lah’mu and then deal with it. I have friends that will–”

“Why can’t I help you first?” you pleaded, “Have I not proven capable? Am I not your friend?”

“No.” You took a step back, letting go of him. “That’s not your place. You’re needed elsewhere.”

“How can you say that?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said darkly, “You don’t tell me _anything_. You’ve pushed me away ever since you came out of that godsforsaken temple.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” he demanded. When you struggled to justify your own reasoning, he turned away from you again. “Exactly.”

Furious, you seized your satchel and left the room as quickly as your feet would take you.

With nowhere else to go, you returned to the _Crest_. As night had fallen, the docking bay was left empty and you were grateful you didn’t have to deal with any more Mandalorians that day.

You were physically and emotionally drained. You were tired of being trapped in caves. And you were _hungry_. All you wanted was something to eat and to slip into unconsciousness for a few hours so that you wouldn’t have to think about the mess you now found yourself in.

You ripped open a stubborn portion pack with your teeth and devoured the contents without so much as tasting the food. It was practically unfathomable that just that morning you were being fed a magnificent spread of delicacies by Nin’ak while Ro babbled on about the latest game the village children had created. You wanted to go back to that. The few days you’d spent with them, with Mando and his foundling, during that perfectly timed rainstorm, were now among your happiest memories. Instead, you were stuck inside a secret Mandalorian base with no escape where no one wanted you. Including the man that you loved. 

You tried telling yourself that he was just as frustrated and exhausted as you were. That he’d almost been blown to bits by TIE fighters only a few hours ago. Unfortunately, the thought didn’t help.

You made your way to your makeshift bunk room. You unclipped your lightsaber from your belt and placed it in the cubby next to you before throwing yourself carelessly onto your bunk. It was all you could manage to do.

After such a long day, sleep should’ve come easy.

Instead you spent the night tossing and turning. And absolutely freezing.

… . …

After a restless night of sleep, Din spent most of the next morning working on the _Crest_ alongside a few others who offered their assistance. It was strange; this was already the longest he’d spent around other Mandalorians in decades as he usually opted to quietly deliver his earnings before chasing the next bounty. And while he worked, he was constantly reminded of what Kuiil showed him about properly fixing his ship. He found himself, not for the first time, missing the sage Ugnaught. He imagined his late friend would have a few choice words for him at the moment.

He was elbow deep in the guts of the ship’s left engine when a couple of kids shouted at him. 

“ _Beroya! K’olar!_ ” 

“ _Gar Jetii!_ ”

 _Come quick. Your Jedi._ That caught Din’s attention.

He climbed down the ladder, skipping the last few rungs, and hurried after the children, following their path through the maze of hallways. As usual, his foundling’s carrier trailed him. When he came to a crowd of people buzzing with excitement, he cut a path to the front, stopping short when he found you in the center of it all. Face to face with Paz Vizsla. 

For a split second, fear gripped him, sending a chill down his spine as he was all but certain Vizsla was harassing you again. Then he noticed your smirk. 

“What the hell?” he sighed as realization dawned on him. He knew he should’ve looked for you that morning. How you’d gotten yourself into this situation, he had no idea.

Evidently, a sparring match between a Jedi and a Mandalorian drew quite the crowd. Anyone who’s eyes aren’t locked on you and Paz, looked between the pair and Din, as if wondering what he thought of the whole mess. Even his Tribe’s _alor_ had emerged from her armory. She watched dispassionately from the back of the room alongside the other tribe’s leaders.

Izau, one of the younger members of his tribe, leaned closer. “A hundred credits say Vizsla beats your girl,” he challenged.

He didn’t know what you were capable of. They all thought they knew how this was going to end. “I’ll double that bet.”

The excited murmur died as all the hushed bets were placed; the room was absolutely silent and still. A heavy tension settled as everyone waited anxiously to see what would happen next, but before it could reach a crescendo, you broke it.

“Let’s go, Mandalorian.”

You might’ve been the only person in the galaxy brave enough to taunt Paz Vizsla. 

With a roar, Vizsla lunged for you first. He was a skilled fighter, no doubt, but compared to you he was all weight and no finesse, and you effortlessly slid out of his way. He’d clearly underestimated you like the rest of them. When he turned on you again, you grinned like a loth cat ready to pounce her prey. 

Din had never seen you fight quite like this before. You were as fierce as always, but you lacked your usual sense of playfulness. With Din, there was always a light teasing and easy banter in between attacks and parries. But this time, you were angry and not holding anything back. You were letting your frustration out – _aggressively_. 

And Vizsla went down with a ringing _clang_.

An anxious silence filled the hall as everyone waited for Vizsla’s reaction. Din had never felt anything like it in all his years. It was broken only by a few muffled gasps when you offered your hand to the downed Mandalorian – and he took it. You pulled him to his feet, and he placed a hand against your shoulder. 

“ _Ni guuror ibic Jetii_ ,” he declared, something akin to reverence in his tone. _I like this Jedi_.

The crowd erupted, surging forward to surround you. Everyone wanted to go a round with the Jetii, the woman who knocked the mighty Paz Vizsla flat on his back. And you were finally smiling. In some strange way, Din thought to himself, you looked like you belonged.

Breaking through the mass of people, Vizsla stopped in front of him. “Where’d you find the Jetii?” He sounded rather amused. 

“Why?” Din asked suspiciously. 

Vizsla glanced over his shoulder, his head tilting downward as he looked over you. “I want one.”

“She’s mine,” Din growled, unsure where that possessiveness came from. But then again, Vizsla always knew how to provoke him. 

The other Mandalorian’s visor snapped back to Din’s and he barked out a laugh. “Is that why she slept on your ship alone last night instead of in your bed?” He smacked the side of Din’s helmet. “ _Utreekov_.”

Din had no response neither to that insinuation nor the insult. 

As you walked over to him, beaming, he tried to forget Vizsla’s comment. It was the first time you’d looked at him like that in days and he couldn’t stop the matching smile that appeared on his face under the visor. 

“You know, you could’ve come found me if you needed someone to spar with,” he offered. He meant to say it casually but heard the edge to his own voice.

“You were busy,” you said dismissively. That much was true, but you’d expertly avoided him all night and well into the morning and Din knew full well why you didn’t seek him out. The only reason you spoke to him now was because you were happy for reasons unrelated to him. “Besides,” you added, “I’m making friends with your people.”

“A decent fight is the best way to do it,” Vizsla retorted. You flashed him a smile and Din cursed the spark of jealousy he felt at the sight. 

“Do I want to know how that started?” Din asked, eying Vizsla.

“I got lost looking for the bunkroom and ran into him. He made some rude remark to which I informed him that I didn’t need you to protect me because I could kick his ass myself. Next thing I knew there was a crowd.”

Izau returned, for once a welcomed distraction, and offered Din a handful of credits. He counted out half and handed it to you. 

“Betting on me?” you asked with a laugh as you weighed the credits in your hand. You gave one of the larger, shiner pieces to the baby who responded quite happily to his new plaything.

“Of course, he said earnestly. “That was impressive.”

“Thank you,” said around an unfaltering grin.

Out of the corner of his visor, he caught Vizsla watching the exchange with interest. “ _Kaysh mirsh solus_ ,” he said, shaking his head at Din. Then he looked at you but gestured back to Din. “Make him translate that for you. Maybe he’ll finally admit it.” 

“What did that mean?” you asked curiously after Vizsla walked away,

“Don’t worry about it,” Din replied, not wanting to explain Paz’s intention more than the phrase itself.

“Is there a reason you won’t teach me any _Mando’a_? Are outsiders not supposed to speak it?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” you pushed.

“Just…don’t worry about it.”

“Fine, Mando,” you huffed and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving him blinking behind his visor.

And just like that, the cordial moment was ruined. 

Paz was right.

He really did have one lonely brain cell.

… . …

Everywhere you went, the little ones followed you.

It was a welcome distraction. The younglings all wanted to spar or ask questions about fighting. In between practice matches you told them stories about the Rebellion and sometimes, when you didn’t feel like talking, you showed them simple Force tricks. That entertained the hell out of the kids. They called you _Jetii_ and clung to you all day. 

Even some of the older members of the Tribe wandered over and listened to you speak or asked to spar. After your uneasy arrival the day before, you were amazed the Mandalorians took to you the way they did. If you’d know sparring with the man in the blue Beskar would have this effect, you would’ve sought him out sooner.

When it was time for the evening meal, everyone dispersed. While preparing meals was a communal activity, consuming them was done in private. That left you and the kid, who’d spent most of the day playing with other younglings, alone with three hearty servings of food. That night, it was a dish of noodles you expected to be spicy just by the aromatic scent wafting up from the bowls. 

Not wanting to go to the ship while it was being worked on, you took the Child back to your assigned bunk room to eat together in peace. The baby downed his food, not even blinking at the spicy flavor that had tears welling in the corners of your eyes. 

“You would make a good little Mandalorian, wouldn’t you? You’ve certainly got the taste for it,” you praised as you gave him a portion of your noodles. He devoured that as well, hopefully filling his bottomless stomach.

Just as the two of you finished your meal, Mando returned from the docking bay. Deciding it was best to leave him alone with his evening meal – and not wanting to attempt to talk to him again considering how well that seemed to work for you lately – you scooped up the kid and left the room without a word.

After spending the entire day inside, you made your way out of the bunker to a small clearing a safe distance from to the entrance. A second burst of energy, no doubt from his extra portion, took hold of the kid as soon as his feet hit the dirt, and he set off to explore the new environment, as curious as ever.

The densely wooded area around the base was primarily populated by pine trees. The air was sharp and clean, scented with their strong evergreen perfume, and were grateful for the peaceful moment far away from your troubles. You didn’t even mind the slight chill and neither did your tiny companion. 

You watched the baby happily survey the landscape. Every few minutes, he returned to your side to place a handful of pine needles in your upturned palms. You had quite a collection forming at your feet. When he came across his first snowdrift, the pine needles were long forgotten. It was clear the Child had never encountered snow in his fifty years of life. You couldn’t help but smile every time he attempted to bring you a handful of snow, only to find it melted against his warm hand before he could reach you. You wished Mando was there to see it. Maybe he’d give one of those breathy laughs he never seemed to be able to suppress around his foundling.

When the baby finally tired of the snow, he sat himself across from you and looked up at you expectantly.

“I’m afraid I haven’t got a lesson planned for you today,” you admitted. “I’m sorry we haven’t had much time to train lately. I know that’s what I’m really here for.”

He tilted his head and blinked at you, as if he didn’t appreciate your answer. After a moment, his eyes fell shut, and you thought he might’ve been meditating, or attempting to do so, as he liked to practice alongside you. Just as you considered joining him, dozens of the small rocks and pebbles littering the ground around you started floating, all hovering around the Child.

“Oh my,” you said smiling, “You’re getting quite good at that, aren’t you?”

Between that awe-inspiring moment with him and your day spent with the other children, you were reminded of how much you enjoyed helping others learn so that they could reach their full potential. And, for perhaps the first time, the thought made you sad. It reaffirmed what you already knew – you were meant to choose the first path you saw in your vision – but you found no comfort in it. As if sensing your distress, the rocks clattered back to the soft soil and his ears fell as he opened his eyes once more. 

“Don’t look at me like that, little one. You’ll break my heart,” you told him as you picked him up and bounced him playfully, wishing to cheer him up. He giggled at the movement. “Do you like that?” you asked with a laugh of your own. You tossed him a little higher, using the Force to soften his descent as you caught him. He squealed jubilantly every time you repeated the action. Just as you caught him on the fourth or fifth toss, you noticed Mando watching you from a few paces back. 

You hadn’t heard his approach, and you wondered how long he’d been standing there, but now you were overwhelmed by his presence. Without even being able to see his expression, you instinctively knew he was happy.

“I love it when you smile,” you said honestly with a grin of your own before you could think better of it. You wished you could forget the argument and the vision and the Imps chasing the baby in your arms so everything would feel like that very moment all the time.

“How can you tell?” he asked as he walked closer to you, confirming what you already knew. You only wished you could see his smile for yourself. When he was close enough, the baby reached for his father and you handed him over. 

“I– I don’t know.” You touched your chest lightly, right over your heart. “With you, I can just feel it.”

“ _Jetii_ ,” he teased.

“There’s this lightness that radiates from you, Mando” you stated simply, “I’m not sure it has anything to do with the Force.”

He trained his visor on you, and you could feel his eyes observing you carefully. You wondered what he was searching for. “Can we talk?”

“I’m a little tired,” you said by way of excuse, refusing to meet his stare any longer. He hummed his disapproval. “Can’t we just have this one nice moment? Talking doesn’t seem to work well for us lately.”

“I know, _cyar’ika_.” He lifted a gloved hand to cup your cheek and raise your gaze to his. “But this is important.”

Your lashes fell against your cheeks as you wrapped your hand around his, wanting to hold him to you, savor his touch, for as long as possible. “Okay,” you breathed, unsure of where this conversation would lead the two of you.

“I misspoke yesterday. You, more than anyone else, are my friend.” Your eyes snapped back to his visor and your lips parted with dozens of unvoiced questions. You knew Mando wasn’t one to share such sentiments unless he absolutely wanted to, knew how difficult it was for him. “I care for you,” he added quietly.

“I care for you too,” you agreed quickly, “Both of you.” You reached out to brush a finger along the baby’s cheek. He was quickly falling asleep where he rested in Mando’s arms. “That’s why I want to help you.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But you have already helped us. I’ve learned more about the galaxy in the short time I’ve known you than I have in my entire life. The kid has been infinitely better off since you started teaching him. What you’ve done for us is– I couldn’t ask you to do anything more.”

“What if I want to?”

“I could never stop you.” His hand fell from your face and you missed his warmth immediately. Suddenly the Besberrian evening felt much colder and you drew your robes tighter against your body. “But I don’t think that’s what you saw in your vision.”

You shrugged, unable to utter a single syllable in response. 

“You said– You said that I wasn’t part of your future,” he stuttered, his modulated voice catching in his throat. The sentence felt unfinished. There was something he wasn’t saying. What that was, you could only imagine. “I understand if you don’t want to tell me you did see. I won’t ask you again.”

For some reason, his resignation made you feel brave, like you could share anything with him because he cared about you enough to let you open up in your own time. And the part of you that called out for him finally won out.

“I saw myself on Lah’mu with Master Zarichi.” That much he already knew. “We were on the beach watching the _Razor Crest_ , your ship, fly away.” His head tilted and you felt like you could read his confused expression in some strange language that was entirely his. “And then it flashed forward and I was training dozens of padawans. I was the master of an academy I built. It was everything I ever wanted and more. But I–” 

Mando’s free hand reached for yours. You met him halfway, letting his gentle squeeze reassure you.

“I was sad,” you started, trying your best to quell the shake in your voice, “I could see it in myself. Even surrounded by all those students, I was alone.”

“What about the second option?” For a long time, the words wouldn’t come, and you stood together in silence. This was the part you didn’t want him to know. “I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what you saw. Or, I don’t know,” he struggled with his own words, “At least tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” He tightened his hold on your hand.

You took a deep breath and offered the easy part first. “There was a battle raging and I dueled with some man wielding a lightsaber like nothing I’d ever seen before.” 

“There’s more than that.” It was not a question. 

“Yes.” He waited for you. Even when you knew you were taking far too long to speak, he waited so patiently. “In the next scene, I was with a man. A man I didn’t know,” you whispered, “Who told me he loved me. And I said the same to him,” you paused after hearing those words aloud for the first time before rushing out an explanation, “And I know that doesn’t sound frightening, but for me it is. The Jedi code strictly forbids attachment and romantic love. So, if I¬…” You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“You would’ve abandoned your code to be with him.” Perhaps Mando, of all people, would understand.

“I’ve been trying so hard–” you said, pushing the words out past the sob that threatened to break you, “So hard to walk the path of the Jedi again. To pick up where I failed before. But that, with that man, that can’t happen. And the kids–” You buried your face in your hands and made a frustrated noise. 

“Kids?” he asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

“Two of them,” you mumbled into your palms, “Absolutely adorable.” As you said it aloud, your resolve broke and the tears you were holding back finally fell. “I never thought I could have that. I’m not supposed to want that.”

“But you do.”

“Yes,” you cried. _But I only want it with you_. “I hate this. I hate it so much.”

Leather wrapped around your wrists as he pulled your hands away one by one. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t–”

“You couldn’t have known.” You laughed humorlessly as you wiped your tears away. “I wouldn’t tell you, remember?”

“No, but I understand your pain now.”

“Have you ever–” You knew you shouldn’t ask, but you felt weak and vulnerable and had to know. “–Been tempted? To give it up?” You placed the palm of your hand against the cold metal of his cuirass. 

A long, quiet moment passed as you regarded each other.

“Not until recently,” he said hoarsely. You were afraid to ask what that meant. “But I can’t.”

“Neither can I.”

… . …

Din was perfectly clean, just wasting time and resources as he let the jet spray warm water down is bare back. But he didn’t care. He was so completely lost in his thoughts. Or rather, he was being consumed by them. 

He’d imagined a hundred different versions of your vision. Had dreamt up a variety of terrible futures. His own history had supplied plenty of source material. Yet the reality was worse than anything he could’ve predicated. Your entire future would be determined by a single choice; an impossible decision between following your code or your heart.

It was the same battle he fought within himself every day since he found the Child. A conflict only made worse by your sudden appearance in his life.

And now, he could no longer deny the feeling that bloomed in his chest every time he looked at you, spoke to you, thought of you. It was a sentiment he’d avoided his whole life, but his mind supplied the word for him uninhibited the moment you told him about your second vision. 

He loved you.

And he wanted that to be him in your vision, telling you those very words. He desired that future with you despite knowing it wasn’t possible for either of you.

When Din exited the small ‘fresher and stepped back into the dimly lit bunkroom, he found you sprawled out on your bed, head propped up by your hand, looking down at the baby sleeping next to you. He was bundled in his favorite blue blanket snoring contentedly. He almost couldn’t bear to look.

He noticed the subtle shift of your eyes as you took in his form sans-armor. He wore only a fresh pair of sleep clothes and his helmet, and he felt warm under your gaze. He wondered, vainly and not for the first time, if you appreciated what you saw. Although, you couldn’t see much of anything.

Your brows creased when you finally met his stare behind the visor. “Something’s bothering you. I can always tell.”

“I know you can. You– You know me.” He almost laughed at the irony of it. Just a few days ago he swore to you that you didn’t know him. He never could’ve anticipated just how wrong he would be.

“What are you thinking, Mando?”

“I want to hold you.”

Your wide eyes and sharp intake of breath told him that his honest and immediate answer surprised you. He didn’t even hesitate and _that_ surprised him. He hadn’t needed to think about it. It was just what he wanted in that moment. 

The two of you kept pushing the boundaries of intimacy. Every time one of you drew a new line, and the pair of you then immediately crossed it. Together. It felt so unintentional; it just happened. Like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. Only it was dangerous and couldn’t last. But Din was desperate enough to indulge in it for as long as he could.

After considering his words, you moved yourself and the baby closer to the wall, leaving plenty of space for him as an open invitation. 

He silently crossed the small room, pausing only to let his fingers hover over the control panel. You nodded your assent and the room was cast in darkness with the press of a button. He sat on the edge of the bunk as he disengaged his helmet and set it next to the bed, close at hand just in case. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to take your helmet off in front of anyone,” you inquired faintly.

“It is forbidden for any living thing to see me without my helmet. I have followed that order since I swore the creed,” he explained. “There are some exceptions. My foundling being one of them.”

“But–” you started hesitantly, “You keep doing that. With me.”

“Can you see me?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t count,” he stated simply as he stretched out on the bunk facing you.

“Isn’t that cheating?” you deadpanned.

“Maybe.” He thought about it for a moment, cringing inwardly. “Probably”

“Then why–”

“I trust you. And I– I want to.” He reached for your hand in the dark, lacing your fingers with his, before adding, “I’ve done it before.”

“I remember. I remember the sound of your voice. It’s so nice.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know. I just like it. There’s–” You seemed to struggle to find the right words and even in the dark he could picture that one face you made every time you lost yourself in thought. “There’s just something about it.”

“Something good?”

“Very,” you said through a deep yawn that drew a laugh from him. “Don’t laugh, I’m tired,” you chastised with a giggle of your own.

“Are you still going to let me hold you?” he asked softly.

You whispered your response. “Please.”

“Come closer, _cyar’ika_ ,” he pleaded. You nestled into him, your head resting on his chest, and he curled an arm around your shoulders. It was a bit awkward. He couldn’t hold you nearly as close as he wanted with a child sleeping in between your bodies. But when you shifted a little, careful not to disturb the baby, and draped an arm across him, your hands still clasped and resting on his sternum, he decided it was perfect.

You sighed as you burrowed against him. “We shouldn’t do this,” you said sadly. 

He knew you meant more than resting together in this old, too-small bunk. The two of you shouldn’t allow yourselves to get any closer, shouldn’t let yourselves fall in deeper. But he couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to, not with you and his foundling next to him, nor could he stop himself from feeling the way he did about you. Even if he wasn’t the man in your vision, he loved you. Nothing could change that now.

“I know,” Din conceded anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations
> 
> Beskar’gam: armor
> 
> Alor: leader, chief
> 
> Jetii: jedi
> 
> Beroya: bounty hunter
> 
> Utreekov: fool, idiot, lit. empty headed
> 
> Kaysh mirsh solus: he’s an idiot, lit. his brain cell is lonely
> 
> Cyar’ika: beloved, darling, sweetheart
> 
> ... . ...  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	9. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend another exciting day with Mando and the Child at the secret Mandalorian base on Besberra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… I always intended for this story to be rated-T through the end to try and match the overall tone/content of star wars... but uh, these two, am I right? I’m just going where the story takes me. 
> 
> Check out this _stunning_ [edit](https://leo-moon.tumblr.com/post/619405031969521664/the-light-of-stars-moodboard-for-my). Like, I seriously can’t stop looking at it. 
> 
> And, as always, thank you so, so so, much for reading. When I say that your comments and kudos and support keeps me going, I really mean it. I love and appreciate you all so much!
> 
> **Chapter Warnings:** Rating change for some snuggling, just to be safe and, if it wasn’t already clear, one (1) touch-starved Mandalorian. But really, hurt/comfort and angsty pining is all we know. Mild language.

When you woke the next morning, a soft cooing sound pulling you out of your deep slumber, you found yourself still curled into Mando’s side, his strong arm heavy around your shoulders. Beneath you, he was warm and solid, and you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat in his chest as you rested against him. That steady sound never failed to ground you.

As you drifted into consciousness, you thought about how the normally stoic Mandalorian had surprised you with his forwardness when he asked to hold you. You knew he was capable of being gentle, but aside from his recent tendency to reach for your hand, that tenderness had never been directed at you in such a way. To share a bed, to hold someone through the long, dark night, felt like a sacred act. Intimate in its innocence. Other’s had warmed your bed – or rather your temporary bunks at various Rebel bases back when you’d scorned the way of the Jedi – but spending the night with a Mandalorian, especially _that Mandalorian_ , was something else entirely. And it crossed some unspoken line between friendship and something you shouldn’t have dared to associate with the man next to you.

Although you knew reading into his actions would only make things worse for you, you couldn’t tame the spark of hope it ignited. He’d become your closest friend and confident, but you wondered if he didn’t feel _something_ toward you. And so, the rational part of your brain couldn’t stop your heart from saying yes to him, to inviting him into your bed. You wanted to be close to Mando, always, but never more so than after you opened up to him about your vision. He’d been so kind and understanding. His empathy had poured through the cold armored exterior and washed over you, and you wanted to wade in that feeling for as long as possible. A selfish, foolish part of you just wanted him to hold you and never let go.

Knowing that moment was a gift, something stolen that wouldn’t last, you tried to commit to memory the feel of his body against yours while you had the chance.

At the sound of a happy trill, your eyes fluttered open slowly. The Child, now wide awake, sat upright on Mando’s chest, gurgling happily with a toothy grin every time Mando tickled him, poking playfully at the baby’s belly. You felt Mando’s short, breathy, modulated laughs beneath you rather than hearing them aloud. His affection for his foundling was endlessly endearing. You watched their little game quietly, loath to disrupt their fun. 

You realized Mando must’ve moved at some point because the lights were on the lowest setting and a quick glance upwards showed you that while he was still missing the rest of his armor, his helmet had been replaced. The only thing that mattered was that he’d returned to you. Unlike last time when he’d slipped his hand out of your grasp and left you, he’d come back. And this was so much better. For whatever reason, he wanted to lie with you and hold you close for as long as possible. The pleasant feeling that realization sent through your system warmed your cheeks and pulled a lazy smile across your lips.

When the baby finally caught his hand, grabbing onto his index finger with six claws, he held it tightly as he looked up at his father with shining eyes full of adoration.

“Your son loves you,” you said, quietly voicing the thought as it passed through your mind. Mando’s visor tilted towards you, only just noticing that you were awake. He made an uncertain noise and turned his attention back to the little one. His body suddenly felt tense beneath yours. You repositioned yourself so that you could look at him properly, holding yourself up with a bent elbow. “You must believe that, don’t you?” you inquired pointedly.

The vocoder emitted a soft crackling sound, nothing more than static, and you imagined he was struggling to find the right words. It was one of those moments when language seemed to fail him. Before he could form some sort of response, the baby drew both of your gazes away from each other as he attempted to scale down the side of the bed, unwittingly relieving the tension that had settled between you. Mando pried him off the bunk, parting from you as he sat up to set the Child on the floor.

The kid waddled to the pile of new playthings he’d collected in the short time at the base, and Mando shook his head at the sight. “We’ve only been here two days,” he muttered.

“He’s quite popular,” you quipped.

“Raising a foundling is communal,” he informed you. “But they’re going to spoil him at this rate.”

“I’d say he deserves it,” you responded, laughing softly as the baby tossed around a geometric puzzle toy one of the older children passed on to him. He’d successfully solved it once, but, apparently, he was over that. Mando nodded his agreement before looking back to you, watching you quietly as he was prone to do. You knew you must’ve been quite the sight first thing in the morning, even if you’d had your best night’s sleep in years.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

You hummed a little as you considered his question. “Not yet, which is quite surprising for me.” He huffed at that but said nothing else. Just when you thought he was going to move to get up for the day, he reclined once more. At the low groaning sound he made as he settled, you instinctively soothed a hand over his side. “How’s your injury healing?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted as he shifted stiffly, seeking a more comfortable position, “Some aches are just age. But I’d feel better if– If you’d come here.”

Failing to fight the grin breaking out across your face, you returned to your place next to him. “Is that better?” you asked playfully. His only answer was the slightest squeeze of your shoulders. The two of you watched the baby play, moving from one toy to the next in rapid succession.

“You said he healed a mortal injury once,” you started, thinking out loud as you idly ran your hand over Mando’s injured side, “Is that why you pushed us away the other day?”

“Yes,” he answered, “He was weak after. I couldn’t let him do that again.”

“Wow,” you said excitedly. You propped yourself up so that you could look at him again. “Theoretically, I thought that might be possible, but I never knew of anyone who did it. That’s absolutely fascinating.” Your ramblings trailed off, as you lost yourself in your own mind for a moment, recalling some old text that you’d read years ago. “He’s such an impressive kid. And he really would do anything for you.”

“It wasn’t me he healed. It was an associate of mine.”

“Associate? Do you mean friend, Mando?”

“Maybe now. He wasn’t at the time.” He paused for a breath, visor trained on the baby. “I didn’t have friends until recently.”

“I would have never guessed,” you teased lightly. The helmet rolled sideways to catch your gaze. You could read his annoyance in that once simple movement, and you had to stifle a laugh. “All I mean to say is that you have a lot of armor protecting you. More than the Beskar,” you explained. “Personally, I really like the man underneath.”

He placed a hand over yours where it rested on his stomach and the two of you fell into another long silence at your words. But even as he was perfectly still, unmoving save for the rise and fall of his chest, you felt his eyes watching you, roaming your face. “You see me,” he said softly, a hint of something akin to disbelief in his voice, “More than anyone.”

If he was anyone else, you would’ve kissed him then. It wasn’t the first time you were overwhelmed with that exact desire. Instead, you brought his hand to your lips, hoping the chaste brush of your mouth against his skin would mean something to him. His hand gripped yours impossibly tighter, flinching at your touch.

“I’m sorry–”

“Stop apologizing for that,” he said, his voice resounding from deep in his chest, “It’s not you.” He left your grasp only to place his hand against your cheek, letting the pad of his thumb tentatively trace the curve of your mouth, lightly kissing your lips.

“Are there any other exceptions?” you asked, remembering your conversation from the night before. “Besides your foundling?” Mando’s hand fell away from your face, but before you could mourn the loss of his touch, he twined his fingers with yours, squeezing slightly.

“Are you trying to find a loophole, _cyar’ika_?” There was something light about his tone, but you still felt like you were asking something you didn’t have the right to ask.

“No,” you insisted, shaking your head. “I just–” Unable to look him in the visor, your eyes flicked across his chest, from one shoulder to the other. “I wonder sometimes, that’s all.”

“You’re not missing much.”

His comment drew your gaze back to his helmet and you narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t believe that for a second, Mando. I don’t have to see you without your helmet to know that you’re beautiful.”

Mando was quiet for a drawn-out moment, practically motionless. You fidgeted under his stare, chewing on your bottom lip as you started to regret the words that had slipped out without your permission. You believed every word you said, but it was not something you’d intended to voice.

“My wife,” he answered finally, “If she swore the creed.”

“Your wife will be a Mandalorian,” you stated, thinking more out loud to yourself than asking a question. The exception made sense – of course his family should be able to see him – but it still stung in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, his grip on you tightening, “I won’t marry.” You weren’t sure why, but it sounded strangely like a promise.

“I meant what I said before. You are loved. By your son, by–” You caught yourself, knowing you’d already said more than you should’ve. “You deserve to be loved, always. You deserve to be happy, Mando. I– I want that for you.”

His helmet was as expressionless as ever as he regarded you. You weren’t sure where the need to make him believe you stemmed from, but, in that moment, it felt like the most important thing in the galaxy. If you were going to leave him in a few short days, the least you could do was ensure that he would have a fulfilling life. You couldn’t look into his future, but you wanted whatever would make him happy. That mattered to you more than it probably should have.

When he finally spoke, it nearly broke what was left of your heart.

“I want that for you, too,” he said softly.

You felt your chest hollow as you lost your breath. You already knew that sort of happiness would escape you. No matter how much you wanted that life with him. Once again, it had been so easy for your playful banter to evolve into a more meaningful exchange – something that you couldn’t afford to indulge in. Needing to put some distance between the two of you, you sat up and tucked your legs under you, shifting away as you tried to remember how to breathe. “We should, um, get up. And start work on the ship so we can get to Lah’mu as quickly as possible,” you suggested, not truly meaning a word of it.

“Yeah,” he agreed, swinging his legs off the bed as he righted himself. Just before he made to stand, he looked back at you as if he wanted to say something. Apparently, he thought better of it, and the rare, slow morning in bed came to an end.

Deciding the best course of action would be to enjoy the last of your time with Mando and the Child, you pushed your heartbreak aside. With the morning’s conversation out of your mind, you spent half of the day with them both in the bunker’s large underground docking bay watching him work on the _Razor Crest_ , helping where you could despite his insistence that you weren’t needed and could relax. Admittedly, you really didn’t know much about fixing starships.

Still, you sighed dramatically at Mando as he discussed how to maneuver a particularly heavy engine part up to the left wing with two other Mandalorians. Normally you weren’t so cavalier about using the Force around strangers, but you’d shared more of your skill with others in the past couple days at the base than you had with practically anyone else in your entire life. You’d always kept yourself a secret, but the Mandalorians knew who you were, and you felt safe with them. So, without even thinking about it, you silenced their conversation by using the Force to lift the massive engine for them with minimal effort.

“Show off,” Mando muttered as he walked by you.

“Learn to ask for help, Mando,” you retorted.

Later, you were playing with the kid, both of you having tired of the work going on around you, when Mando called down to you.

“ _Jetii_!” he teased. It never held the same reverence as when the others said it. “Help me out and pass the carbon chisel,” he requested, waving a gloved hand at you.

With a retort on the tip of your tongue, you smirked up at him where he stood on the ship’s wing. However, the Child beat you to it. He speedily floated the exact tool Mando needed up to him. Only, he put a little too much force into it and the heavy metal chisel flew through the air, hitting Mando square in the helmet and knocking him back a few steps.

You gasped, watching with wide eyes as Mando staggered on the edge of the wing, but quickly righted him with a wave of your hand. When you were certain that he was safe, unbridled, slightly hysterical laughter burst from within you and you fell into a fit of giggles at the close call. As did everyone else in the hanger. Even the baby found his father’s near-fall funny. Mando stared down at the two of you unamused. You couldn’t stop laughing and the sight of him with his hands on his hips only made it worse.

When you finally wiped the tears from your eyes, you noticed the slight shake of his shoulders. He was laughing too. You imagined him smiling again, and your heart fluttered in your chest at the thought.

When the docking bay’s mirth finally subsided, you scooped the kid up, deciding he needed to expel some of his energy playing with the other children rather than causing undue bodily harm to his own father.

… . …

If Din thought traveling with you and the kid was making him soft, it was nothing compared to seeing the two of you among his tribe. He was still amazed at the way his people accepted the both of you. He was even more impressed at your ease around the Mandalorians. Though he supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him – not only had you been shockingly respectful of his culture since the day he met you, but you seemed to make friends everywhere you went.

Sometime after midday, he’d snuck away from the _Crest_ in search of something to eat and instead found you at the center of attention in the main hall. A couple dozen younglings, including his own little foundling, surrounded you. That accounted for almost every child between the different tribes. Nearly as many adults listened to you speak from further away. Everyone seemed to hang on your every word as you told the children a story from your Rebellion days. It appeared he walked in at the end of your tale.

“And then the Imperial Star Destroyer exploded!” you announced dramatically with a sweeping wave of your hands. A chorus of excited exclamations rang out around you. And then question after question was thrown your way.

“How did you escape?”

“What did the Imps do next?”

“Which explosives did the Rebels prefer?”

Strategy and weapons appeared to be their biggest concerns. They were Mandalorian children, after all. And you answered each question with ease and a smile, encouraging their curiosities.

Din realized then that one day that would be your life. You’d seen yourself training young Jedi in your vision and he imagined it would look much like the scene before him. And you would excel at it. Of that he had no doubt.

But he couldn’t bring himself to be happy about it. He remembered what you said about that future. _I was sad. I could see it in myself. Even surrounded by all those students, I was alone._ He could still hear the shake in your voice as you held back your tears. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to want that future for you.

Of course, if he was being honest, he wasn’t particularly fond of either possible future.

He returned to the docking bay having forgotten why he left his work in the first place.

Hours later, as Din made his way through the underground maze of corridors, that scene of you surrounded by the children replayed in his mind. He despised everything about the situation you found yourself. Hated how impossible it proved to ignore his feelings for you. Couldn’t believe that it made him a sentimental, pensive man, completely lost in his thoughts when there were pressing matters to attend to.

And yet, he continued to struggle to reconcile your future, one that appeared to be perfect for you, with the knowledge that you were also destined to be alone. As was he. But as much as he wanted to be with you, he knew the two of you couldn’t stay together. You had a path you were determined to follow, and he couldn’t ask you to give up your code. Not to be with a man you could never truly know. You would never expect him to abandon his creed. He couldn’t give you something like what you say in your second vision – no matter how appealing – without breaking his oath.

It was a problem with no solution.

But he had an idea. A simple, indulgent idea that wouldn’t fix a damn thing but might offer you the smallest hint of comfort over the years. And if that was all he could do for you, then he would.

When he heard the familiar sound of fires of a forge and tools shaping steel, he realized he’d reached his destination. He moved into the armory quietly, but his _alor_ noticed him even with her back turned. Nothing ever escaped her.

“I expected you would come around,” she intoned as she inspected her current project. It looked to be a pair of durasteel cuisses. She held both pieces in front of her visor, turning them in sync as she compared the two. “I must say, your Jedi proved impressive.”

“Vizsla deserved it,” he retorted.

“That is probably true. He usually does. But it is not what I spoke of.” Dissatisfied with her work, she returned to her anvil and continued shaping one of the pieces, molding it with each solid strike of her hammer. He waited patiently for her to continue, knowing she would only speak again in her own time. When she finished her task, setting her tools and the matching thigh plates on her worktop, she finally turned to him. “She has the spirit of a warrior, but the temperament of a leader.”

“Yes, she does,” he agreed. Something akin to pride swelled within him.

“And she is an excellent teacher. Everyone is taken with her. Especially the younglings,” she assessed correctly. Din offered a curt nod of agreement. “As are you,” she stated simply, looking at him for some sort of an answer. He couldn’t offer her one. Couldn’t even try to deny it. “You want something, Din Djarin. What is it?”

Din would never understand how the armorer, for all of her skill and wisdom, always seemed to know _everything_. He demagnetized his cuirass, setting it gently on her worktop. “I have a request.”

“The nexu scratch?” she asked, running a gloved finger over it, “That should come out easily enough. You could’ve done it yourself.”

“No,” he corrected quickly, “No, I’d like to leave that.”

“The mark of a battle won.”

“Yes.” _The mark of a battle won together_ , he thought to himself.

“Something else then?” his _alor_ prompted.

He swallowed hard, summoning up more courage than should’ve been necessary to ask for something so simple. “Yes.”

… . …

It was late in the day, well past the evening meal. That night it was a deliciously spicy stew that nearly had you in tears. However, there was something about their predilection for spicy flavors that seemed to fit the Mandalorians, and it only further endeared you to their culture. They were a unique people, but you found that you enjoyed them immensely. They were warriors with unmatched spirit. Although you could feel the palpable mark of generations worth of loss – something that weighed heavy on them all – they carried on with a fierce resolution that you admired.

At that hour, the base was quiet as most had turned in long ago, but a few of your shadows had returned to you. Four little girls, all probably no older than eleven, had knocked on the door to your quarters, politely asking for you and the Child. Even as tired as you were, you didn’t have it in your heart to deny them.

Which was how you ended up back in the main hall, now strangely peaceful as the usual crowd had disappeared into their quarters for the evening save for a few stragglers continuing their work and, as always, several more who remained on guard.

One of the girls, Syana, sat next to you, closely inspecting your hand and asking question after questions as to how you were able to channel the Force. She was definitely the oldest of the bunch, and relentlessly inquisitive. It was something you noticed the first day you met the young girl and you admired her for it. Two of the others, Mai-Sen and Ename, sisters only in that they were found together, played with the baby. They’d made up a game just for him, but, despite their best efforts to explain it, you still didn’t quite understand the rules. But they seemed to enjoy it and the kid was more than entertained.

Perched on your knee was the smallest and youngest of the group by several inches and a few years. She was a soft-spoken girl with a mauve-colored helm. Unlike the others, she was from Mando’s tribe and did not give her name. She had taken to exploring your features, caressing your face with her slender fingers. At first, her actions had confused you, but you reasoned that she was probably unused to seeing someone bare their face, and so you didn’t try to stop her. Even the four girls, as young as they were, each wore a traditional helmet. You couldn’t help but think they seemed too young for something like that. Of course, you realized, silently chastising yourself, you’d started your own training around the same age. That was hardly different.

The pad of her finger traced a circle following the arc of your brow and the bone of your cheek and she whispered to you. “ _Mesh’la_ ,” she said softly.

“What?” you asked, perking up at the word. You’d heard it once before. The day you showed Mando your lightsaber. “What does that mean?”

“Beautiful,” she explained.

“Oh,” you gasped, your mind spinning at the translation. Of course, he’d probably been talking about the saber. He had to have been. He was a Mandalorian; his weapons were practically part of him. Still, you dared to ask your next question despite your better judgement. “What does _cyar’ika_ mean?”

All four little girls giggled at you.

“You’re saying it wrong!” Ename called to you from where she sat with the baby.

“It’s not _sah-ree-kah_ ,” Mai explained cheekily, “It’s _shar-ee-kah_.”

“Of course. Forgive me,” you said hastily, “But what does it mean?”

“Sweetheart,” the littlest one said quietly. It felt like a punch to the gut, like all the air had been forced from your lungs and you couldn’t draw in a breath.

“No, it means beloved,” Ename corrected.

“That’s the same thing,” Syana placated.

The girls’ bickering fell away as you processed the meaning of the diminutive. Some part of you suspected Mando used his new name for you purposely, but you hadn’t imagined it could mean something like that.

Ename shook your shoulder, drawing you from deep within your own mind, and practically scolded you. “ _Mando’a_ is a special language. You’re only supposed to use words like those if you really mean them. That’s what my mother taught me.”

“That’s what my _buir_ said too,” Syana agreed, looking up at you from her place next to you. Somehow that only made things worse. You finally realized why he was so hesitant to translate _Mando’a_ for you. Because that one word meant that he felt something for you, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Who knew what else Mando and the others had been saying?

“Kayden called me _mesh’la_ once,” Mai informed the group from where she sat with the kid. That was promptly followed by a few disgusted noises. You’d met Kayden; he was a rather typical boy for their age. It was enough to make you laugh even as your heart was crumbling in your chest and your stomach twisted itself into knots.

“ _Jetii_ , _Jetii_ ,” the little one in your lap said, tugging on the collar of your tunic, “Does _Beroya_ call you that?”

“ _Beroya_?”

“You really need to learn _Mando’a_ if you’re going to stay with us!” Ename demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The bounty hunter!” Syana explained, “Does he call you cyar’ika?”

Your crowd fell silent as they anxiously awaited your answer. Four T-shaped visors and a pair of large, dark eyes stared at you. You forced the word out. “Yes.”

Their excited, modulated gasps resounded throughout the hall.

After setting the Child gently on your bunk, you all but collapsed onto the bed next to him. A long-withheld, frustrated groan tore from your lips, muffled by your pillow.

The idea of Mando _not_ returning your affections had been comforting. Even as his actions suggested otherwise, you clung to it to ease your own pain. While you weren’t normally one to take the advice of children on matters of the heart, according to them, the bounty hunter was in love with you. They’d stressed that fact. Repeatedly. And, much to your dismay, you were inclined to believe them.

He called you _cyar’ika_. On several occasions. Once, for the very first time, as he consoled you after your visit to the temple. Another time after he’d narrowly escaped death. When he held you in that very bed. And then half a dozen times more. Each moment was seared into your memory.

If it was as special a word as the girls said it was, you knew he wouldn’t use it if he didn’t feel something toward you. Not when he was as dedicated to his people and culture as he was. Mando always acted and spoke with purpose; he never did anything lightly. Which meant your fondness for him, the love you were trying so desperately to quell, was reciprocated.

And it made sense. Why else would he hold you at night? Share his secrets and memories with you? Wipe the tears from your eyes? You’d done everything you could to ignore the signs, but that was a hopeless endeavor.

A tiny hand resting against your shoulder drew you from your thoughts, and you turned your head to see the baby looking at you with a worried expression, his pointed ears turned downwards.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” you sat up and held him in your arms, “You don’t need to worry about me like you do. I’m just– I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Being dramatic, perhaps?”

He made a cooing noise you took as his agreement. “You think so too?” you asked, tweaking his nose. His ears perked up and you smiled at him.

“How about we meditate together for a bit? That usually puts you right to sleep when it's late.” And it typically helped you when you felt overwhelmed. At the moment, it felt like your entire universe was collapsing in on itself like a black hole. You set the Child in front of you and let your eyes fall shut as you tried to center yourself. A few minutes later, you heard a soft snoring sound, and when you opened your eyes just enough to peak at him, you found him fast asleep against your pillow. “That’s what I thought,” you whispered to yourself.

You returned to your practice, focusing on steadying your breathing and uncoiling the tension in your shoulders. As you cleared your mind, reaching out toward the Force that surrounded you, you felt a familiar pull. Something you’d only felt once on Nar Shaddaa.

Curious, you moved towards one of the unused bunks where your belongings sat in a cluttered heap. Whatever was calling you, was inside your own satchel. You dug around for a moment before pulling out the old, broken datacron. It looked the same as the day you’d bought it, except for the unnerving fact that it glowed bright blue.

Acting on pure instinct and the slightest bit of hope, you placed the cube in the center of the room and knelt before it. You resumed your meditation, focusing intently on the object before you, seeking out it’s unique signature through the Force. Your eyes shot open at the faint clicking sound of the cube’s corners turning. The soft blue light of a holo filled the room.

It wasn’t a piece of junk after all.

… . …

“Mando!”

You skidded to a halt in front of him, nearly crashing into him as he exited the armory. Din placed a hand on either of your shoulders in an attempt to steady you as you caught your breath. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“What’s wrong? Where’s the kid?” he inquired.

“He’s fine! Everything’s fine. But you’re never going to believe–” You stopped short, head tilting adorably to the side as you looked over him. Or at least he found it adorable until he realized what you were looking at. “Why do you look so crooked?”

You were probably the only person in the whole _kriffing_ galaxy that would notice something so small. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said hoarsely.

“Your chestplate doesn’t look right” you reached out as if to adjust it, “You always look perfect.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you, Jedi,” Din deflected, ignoring the hint of a compliment.

“Very funny, Mandalorian,” you teased even as your eyes lingered on his cuirass. “Which reminds me – come on!” You grabbed his hand and sped down the long hallway toward the barracks.

“Do you remember that old datacron I picked up on Nar Shaddaa?” you asked as you pulled him into the bunkroom. There was a nervous excitement about you he hadn’t seen before.

“Sure,” he answered, glancing between you and the baby sleeping on your bunk. The kid didn’t seem to mind the sudden intrusion.

“Well, it’s not just some datacron,” you started, producing the object from your bag, now glowing bright blue in your hands. “This is a Jedi holocron,” you announced with a bright expression. “It’s probably from the old temple on Coruscant! That’s where the archives used to be, until the Empire destroyed every holocron they could get their hands on.”

“What was this doing in a junk shop on Nar Shaddaa?”

“I can only imagine. But these are extremely rare,” you said, gently placing the holocron in his hand. He inspected the Jedi artifact, tracing the golden edges with a gloved finger. “I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” you added, failing to repress your smile.

“What’s the best part?” he asked, playing along.

“This holocron–” the grin you’d been fighting broke out across your face, “–Is dedicated to the Jedi’s history with the Mandalorians.”

“Really?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide the excitement in his voice. He couldn’t believe that this palm-sized device, something he’d initially dismissed when you’d showed it to him, might hold answers to his questions about the Jedi. “Have you read any of it?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for my favorite Mandalorian,” you said coyly, a bright glint in your eyes.

“I’m here now,” he teased, “Open it.”

A few hours later, the two of you were still sitting on the floor of your shared room, backs against the bunk where the baby slept, sorting through the hundreds of files stored on the holocron. With each new piece of history revealed to you, your excitement had faded until you were slumped against the bunk, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

“Our people have fought each other across the galaxy for millennia,” you concluded, “And they absolutely, unequivocally hate each other.”

“You might be right,” Din conceded reluctantly. His _alor_ had once called the Jedi enemy sorcerers. But the extent to which that was true had surprised even him.

“I mean look at this,” you continued, ignoring his agreement. With a wave of your hand you recalled the files on the Mandalorian-Jedi War you’d read over earlier. “The Jedi destroyed your people’s homeworld. Mandalore is basically uninhabitable because of what they did. And, if that’s not bad enough, because of that war, everything that you wear is specifically made to combat the Jedi. The Beskar, the jetpack, your weapons, your vambraces, your helmet…” you trailed off as your eyes scanned over each piece of his armor, “It was all created to protect you from someone like me.”

He would’ve liked to refute you, but you were right. According to everything the two of you had read so far, the Jedi and Mandalorians were enemies even at the best of times. Learning that the Jedi were responsible for the destruction of Mandalore was a particularly brutal blow. As was discovering that the very _beskar’gam_ he wore was designed to compensate for and overcome the abilities of a Jedi. Your abilities. It was clearly detailed right there in the text with accompanying schematics. Apparently, that fact upset you as much as it unsettled him.

And yet you were still the first person to get past his armor. And you hadn’t even needed your powers to do so.

“How does everyone here not hate me?” you sighed, as lost in your own thoughts as he was in his, “How do you not hate me?”

“I could never hate you,” he stated, “And I doubt most people here know about half of this stuff. Hell, I didn’t know about the Jedi or the Force until I met the kid. There’s– There’s got to be something good in here.”

You banished the file with a flick of your wrist and brought up a new piece of history. You repeated the action several times, switching between documents when you came across something that frustrated you. “Would you like to read about the best ways for a Jedi to strike down a Mandalorian in close combat?” you muttered as you disappeared that file as well, “Or maybe about the Jedi’s proposal to banish Mandalorians to Wild Space a few hundred years ago? I’m sure that’s a lovely read.”

He had to admit that none of that sounded particularly helpful. When Din said nothing, you continued your rapid-fire scan of the holofiles. Just as he was about to give up hope, you gasped and sat straight up.

“Look!” you said excitedly, “There was a Mandalorian inducted into the Jedi Order. That means they didn’t _always_ hate each other. Although,” you added, your face falling as you read more, “That was a thousand years ago.”

“It’s something,” he quipped. A small smile broke the sad expression that had marred your features only a moment ago. “Tell me more.”

“Well, it looks like Tarre Vizsla joined the Order,” you said as you quickly scanned the text. Din rolled his eyes behind his visor. Of course, it was a Vizsla. “He later broke away from the Jedi and became the _Mand’alor_.”

You turned to him and he answered your question before you could ask it. “The sole ruler of the Mandalorians.”

“Oh, interesting. You had a Jedi ruling your people at one point, Mando” you said, elbowing him playfully in the soft padding covering his side.

“Former Jedi,” Din corrected, earning an exasperated look from you. “Keep reading. Please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you retorted before returning to the holo. “As the first Mandalorian Jedi, Tarre Vizsla crafted a unique weapon called the darksaber. It says here that after his death the Jedi kept the blade until Clan Vizsla stole it from the Temple.” You scoffed at that. “Why do I get the sense that it was really the other way around? Either way, it became an important unifying symbol for all Mandalorians. That’s absolutely fascinating.”

Before he could say anything, the holo shifted and the text was replaced by an image of a lightsaber not unlike your own save for the angular black blade. When you were quiet for a beat too long, Din glanced over and found you staring at the image with wide, unblinking eyes, your former excitement replaced with something that looked more like fear.

“ _Cyar’ika_?” he prompted, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve seen this…” The light in your eyes dimmed as you stared off in the distance past the holo, looking at something Din couldn’t see.

“In your vision,” he finished for you.

“Yes.”

While he was afraid that he would be right again, he ventured another guess anyway. “The second one?”

“The man I was fighting wielded this exact weapon.”

He looked at the lightsaber again. “A Mandalorian?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at him, but it was definitely this saber. There must only be one like it.” You turned to look at him, concern written all over your face. “But what does that mean?”

“I– I don’t know,” he offered lamely, frustrated at himself for not having anything more to add than that. 

“Shit,” you cursed, completely unlike you, “Gods, somehow these visions keep getting worse.”

“But you’re not choosing that future, so it shouldn’t matter,” he reasoned.

“Well– I suppose that’s true.” You seemed to shrink in on yourself at the concession.

As much as you insisted that you’d made your decision, Din remained unconvinced. Your future weighed heavy on you. And he wanted nothing more than to make those worries go away. Wished he could take those visions from you so you wouldn’t feel all of the pain and anguish they’ve caused anymore. His grip on your shoulder tightened just enough to draw your attention back to him. You set a hand over his, absentmindedly tracing the raised lines of the blue triangle on his handguard. He watched your repetitive movement, mesmerized by the touch couldn’t feel, and his next words tumbled out uninhibited. “Are you sure you don’t want that other future?”

“Of course I do,” you said quietly, “But not with– And not if it means giving up on the Jedi. I know that this doesn’t cast them in the best of light,” you said, waving toward the holocron, “But the Jedi have always been a beacon of hope for people. And after what happened to them…” You faced him again, and he watched you steeled yourself, a hard, resolved expression falling across your features. “There are few like me. And even fewer with any sort of knowledge of the way of the Jedi. I have a duty to finish my training and pass on what I learned from my master. Otherwise the Jedi will die. After everything that’s happened, the galaxy needs that hope, that light.”

“And you can give it to us all,” he mused, “Your light burns brighter than all the stars.”

“Mando,” you sighed, already attempting to contradict him, “That’s–”

“It’s true,” he said firmly.

“Then how could I turn my back on the Jedi now? How could I be so selfish?”

Din had no response to offer you at that, nor could he push the matter further. He understood your devotion. You’d made up your mind, and he would respect that. There was nothing more he could do.

“We can read more of this later,” he suggested, gesturing to the image of the strange saber. “I think I’ve learned enough for one day.”

“I agree,” you said dryly while you flicked off the projection

“Then get some rest. We’re leaving tomorrow so–”

“The ship is fixed?” you interrupted.

“It’ll be ready by the evening meal.”

“That’s–” you paused as you toyed with the holocron, twisting one of the corners. “That’s good. Tomorrow’s our last day here?”

“Once the _Crest_ is fixed, there’ll be no reason to stay,” he answered.

“Right.” You agreed, seeming to refuse to meet his gaze.

“You should get some sleep,” he repeated.

“We both should,” you corrected. “With our luck, or lack thereof, who knows what will happen next.”

He gave a huff of a laugh at that. Truer words had never been spoken.

… . …

After he gently placed the baby in his carrier, pausing for a moment to adjust his blankets before sealing the cover, Mando switched off the lights, removed his helmet, and laid down in his own bunk. An uncomfortable silence fell over the shared sleeping quarters, broken only by the rustling of your sheets as you fidgeted in your bed across from him. It stretched on for what felt like an hour but was probably only ten minutes. Despite your exhaustion, sleep eluded you.

Of course, he knew what he wanted. If your time with him was coming to an end, you wanted to savor every last moment with him. And you were tired enough to not think twice about it.

“Mando–”

“ _Cyar’ika_ –”

He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room, fell into your bed, and closed the distance between the two of you, his arms encircling you and pulling your body to his.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed as you relaxed into his hold. He hummed his agreement as he held you impossibly tighter. You didn’t seem to mind. “I don’t want to leave,” you admitted.

“Me either, _cyar’ika_ ,” he stated simply. The name pierced the very fabric of your soul as you remembered what you’d forgotten in your excitement over the holocron.

“I know what that means. Why you call me that,” you whispered against his chest. You let your statement hang there in the open, let the truth of it sink in.

When he didn’t say anything, your heart collapsed in your chest. Maybe the little girls didn’t actually know what they were talking about. Perhaps you’d been wrong to think that the term held that sort of sentiment for him.

But then you felt a light hand against your chin, tilting your head up to face him in the dark. A pair of soft lips brushed against yours in a ghost of a kiss. And yet it was enough to send a shock of electricity through you. He had a way of overwhelming your senses until you couldn’t think straight. The rest of the galaxy faded away and all that was left was him. That would be your undoing.

You shifted closer, just a fraction of an inch, but it was all he needed, and he captured your bottom lip between his, giving you the sweetest kiss. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his nose bumping yours as the two of you delighted in your closeness.

“ _Cyar’ika_ ,” he whispered to you, his voice still rough around the edges but softer than you’d ever heard it before. He was smiling just as you were. Of that, you were almost certain. Seeking some sort of confirmation, you placed a hand on his cheek, finding it full and rounded from the grin that pulled on his lips. Without even being able to see him, you knew it was the most beautiful smile, made all the better because it was for you.

He kissed you again, firmer, but still so careful, and your hand fell from his face, finding purchase in the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, asking for more. He was generous enough to give it to you, cradling your head as he deepened the kiss. Wanting to feel him again, your hand traveled lower and you dared to slip under the hem, trailing your fingertips lightly over his warm skin. His abdomen contracted under your touch and he broke the kiss, but he didn’t stop you that time. It occurred to you that no one ever touched him. No one, besides maybe you and the kid, ever saw him without the armor. And doubtlessly no one was allowed to _feel_ the man underneath the Beskar. Perhaps no one ever kissed him either.

Just you.

Feeling emboldened, you splayed your hand across his stomach. He let out a shaky exhalation in response that seemed to confirm your suspicion. “Is this okay? Do you like it when I touch you, Mando?”

“Yes,” he rasped, his breath mingling with yours.

“Why me?” you asked because that was the question that tormented you the most. Why did he have to pick you?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, soft and full of emotion as he finally gifting you his translation of the endearment, “Don’t make me say it.”

Deciding it would be better if neither of you said much of anything, afraid of what the truth might be, you took a different approach. “Do you want to touch me too?”

“Fuck–” he swore. It sounded like he was choking on the curse. “Yes.”

At his response, you sat up and lifted your tunic off your body, flinging it haphazardly across the room. He followed your motion and pulled his own shirt off with your help. As soon as it was over his head and off his arms, it followed the same trajectory as yours. You wanted nothing more than to feel him against you and he seemed to want the same. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your chest to his so that your skin was almost perfectly flush so that only the thin fabric covering your breasts separated the two of you. And Mando– He made a sound most unbecoming of a Mandalorian. His arms engulfed you as he brought the two of you back down to the bed, your body on top of his.

His calloused hands wandered, caressing every bit of your exposed skin. You knew that if anyone before you didn’t touch him, then he didn’t get to feel anyone else either. He seemed to relish the sensation of your skin against his as he traced the curves of your shoulders, followed the arch of your back, and kneaded the softer parts with just enough pressure to earn delirious whimpers from you. Your mouths meet again with more fervor. Your lips came together and pulled apart, each kiss lingering longer than the last as your shared hesitancy turned to confidence and urgency. It was hot and breathy as neither one of you wanted to part long enough to draw in air.

You felt his affection for you in every warm touch and every passionate kiss. That moment was the culmination of your developing feelings, and you gave everything you had to it. You could only hope that he would finally realize that what you’d told him that morning was true. That he was loved. That you loved him. Truly and deeply.

Mando chased your lips every time you broke apart. He was eager and greedy, and you would’ve happily given him anything. His enthusiasm only spurred you on – you could feel the same excitement that coursed through your veins pouring off of him – and your hands found their way to his hair. You threaded your fingers through his wavy locks to pull him even closer, eliciting a low moan from the back of his throat.

“This feels–” he sighed, “You feel so good.”

“So do you, Mando,” you said breathlessly, smiling against his lips.

“Wanted this, wanted you,” he murmured his lips moving lower to your jaw to leave a warm trail of lingering, openmouthed kisses, each one lower than the last, “Since _kriffing_ Vrogas Vas.” You practically whined under his ministrations and at his words, enchanted by the pleasure he pulled from you. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

Reality set in suddenly and sharply, and you stiffened in his hold. He stopped his movements immediately though he wouldn’t let you go. “Because we shouldn’t,” you answered wetly.

“I know, but–” He never finished his sentence, only spitting out a single word of _Mando’a_. Something that sounded like a curse.

“I’m so sorry. I want this, but I– I can’t–” you murmured, burying your face against his neck and fighting back a sob as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you again. You were so tired of feeling like you would break anytime you thought of your future. Or the future you wouldn’t have with him.

“I know. It’s okay. Just– Just let me hold you.” You’d never heard him sound so sad before, and a whole new wave of sadness washed over you. It wasn’t just your heart that was breaking. He felt it too. He ran his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. It sent a shiver through you, and you were keenly aware of the cold bunker around you after stopping your feverish touches. He pulled the threadbare blanket pooled around your waist over your half-bare bodies.

“I don’t want to leave,” you repeated, sounding strangled by your own words.

“Me either, _cyar’ika_ ,” he echoed before pressing one last kiss to your temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations
> 
> Cyar'ika: beloved, sweetheart
> 
> Mesh'la: beautiful
> 
> Beskar'gam: armor
> 
> Mand'alor: sole ruler
> 
> ... . ...
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


	10. Transient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend your last day with the Mandalorians on Besberra as Mando prepares to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your endless patience with me. This chapter took much longer than I intended – both over the last couple of weeks and just tonight. But it’s finally here! I hope you enjoy it. 💗
> 
> Oh! And there’s some Mando’a in this one but there are translations at the end for anything I didn’t explain in the text.
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** Just the expected angst and pining that goes along with this story. Maybe mild language?

Din felt you watching him from the bunk as he replaced his armor, your eyes following each piece as he covered himself in steel. Just moments ago, he’d been wrapped up in your warmth, but as soon as you’d started to stir, he’d untangled his limbs from yours and slipped out of bed, claiming he needed to start work on the ship as soon as possible. Really, he’d needed to get up before he was tempted to pass the whole day in bed with you. And that was the problem.

While your eyes followed his movements, he couldn’t quite find it in himself to look at you. Not while you sat in the bed you’d shared together, still wrapped up in the sheets. Not while memories of the dark of the night before flashed in his mind. Nothing visual, just whispers of sensations lingering. Warm lips colliding with his. Gentle caresses across his face and down his chest. Fingers tangling in his hair. Your bare skin pressed against his.

He’d been with others before but never removed so much as a single piece of Beskar. They hadn’t minded. They’d been so enthralled with the idea of being with a Mandalorian even for just a fleeting, meaningless moment that it didn’t matter who was underneath the armor.

Then there was you.

You were so different from anyone else he’d ever known. You wanted him without the armor, but not so you could satisfy some debauched fantasy or a passing curiosity. You liked the idea of being with Din as he was beneath the Beskar. Deep down he knew you did. He sensed it in the way you breathed new air into his lungs with every kiss. And the way your scorching touch ignited a fire inside him, fueled by your unspoken affection. You’d stripped him half-bare, felt him in a way no one else ever had, and woke a desperate need to be touched and kissed, a desire he didn’t know he had. And now he craved it – craved _you_ – more than anything.

But it had ended before it could even begin.

As it should’ve. It was foolish and he couldn’t let it happen again. Not if he wanted to protect you.

So, with the new day bringing the three of you closer to your shared goal, he had to replace his armor once more. Only now he carried the knowledge that you felt the love blossoming between the two of you just as deeply as him. It wasn’t just a fiction of a hopeful mind. Something he’d dreamt up. He couldn’t imagine he deserved that, but you felt it all the same. But there was nothing either of you could do about it. That weighed on him more than any steel.

“Will you watch the kid while I work?” he asked, breaking the silence. He secured his second vambrace around his forearm and with the touch of a button, his HUD indicated that it was connected to his armor’s interface and that the system was functioning properly. After years of wearing his run-down durasteel armor, it felt like a small miracle.

“Of course,” you answered quietly. He turned his visor toward you, taking in your weary form slumped against the wall behind the bunk. “Won’t be long now, will it?” he could hear the subtle sorrow laced through your voice.

“A few hours.”

“Mando,” you sighed, your eyes falling shut as your head hit the wall with a soft _thump_. “I don’t want to go,” you mumbled, echoing your own words from the night before.

Din was quiet for a long time. Every time you said that it was a shock to his system. It pained him to imagine leaving you alone on Lah’mu when you were happiest surrounded by others. And it pulled at something deep inside of him that you fit in with his people. That you were content to be among the Mandalorians. All of that left him speechless.

“We have to go to Lah’mu,” he started, “And we have to go now.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” he reminded you. He didn’t need to say it aloud; you knew it too. It was the same reason you’d stopped whatever was about to happen in that bed only a few hours ago. Every day the two of you spent together would make parting more difficult. He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bunk. “And every moment we stay here increases the chances of Gideon’s people finding the covert. I can’t let that happen.”

“I know,” you admitted. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What will you do when all of this is over?” you asked, shifting closer to him.

To say your question caught him off guard would’ve been an understatement.

“Things will go back to the way they were before,” he attempted. As he glanced at the closed carrier hovering across the room, his words lost all meaning. He knew nothing would ever be the same again. He wasn’t the same person he was a few months ago. There was no going back the way things were. But he would still be a Mandalorian. That was the only constant he had to cling to. A deep exhale crackled through the modulator before he spoke again. “It is my duty to provide for my Tribe. Beyond that, I’ve never thought about it. Bounty hunting isn’t a profession that lends itself to that kind of luxury.”

“What do you want?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t was the answer to, _cyar’ika_.”

Your eyes widened under his stare before your gaze dropped bashfully to the holocron sitting in your lap. No longer glowing, the cube looked as it did the day you found it. The pair of you sat in silence for a few minutes as you traced the edges with nimble fingers. “I had dreams about this damn thing last night,” you said bitterly.

“About the darksaber?” he suggested, already suspecting that he was right. That image had disturbed you more than any of the other files the two of you had read while scouring the holocron. And you had a fitful night’s sleep in his arms, never fully waking but never settling in either. Peace had alluded you despite his best efforts to soothe you. The rings under your eyes were evidence to that. He knew you had a lot on your mind, but the weapon from your vision was undoubtedly still bothering you.

“Yeah,” you scoffed as you fidgeted with the Jedi artifact.

“Worrying about a future you won’t have won’t do you any good,” Din said as he lifted the holocron from your hands. “Put the darksaber out of your mind. That’s for some other Mandalorian to worry about.”

Something fiery flashed across your features and he knew in an instant that you weren’t going to listen to him. He’d wanted to ease your worries. Instead, what he said gave you an idea. He could see it written all over your face.

“You’re right,” you answered a little too easily. You pushed yourself off the bed and crossed the room to the ‘fresher, calling over your shoulder to him as the door slid open. “You start work on your ship. The kid and I have things to attend to.”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved at your reignited spark or worried about what you were going to do next.

Across the small room, the pram opened, revealing his slowly waking foundling. He blinked at Din a few times before letting out a chirpy greeting.

“Watch her for me today. Okay, kid?”

The baby cooed happily in response, but it was a small comfort. The kid was just as much trouble as you were.

… . …

As you descended further into the bunker than you’d dared to venture before, you were once again struck by the sheer size and depth of the mountainous hideout. You rounded another corner, only to groan when you were met with yet another dead end. Turning sharply on your heel, you started back the way you came. You’d left the Child to play with the other children and the adults watching them – never hovering but always vigilant – and you had been wandering the halls for quite some time searching for a specific Mandalorian.

A few more dizzying twists and turns brought you to the end of another long hallway. This one, however, led to a massive room where half a dozen people were busy at work. You found yourself surrounded by almost every type of weapon imaginable: blasters, slugthrowers, disrupters, jetpacks, repulsors, techstaffs, flamethrowers, vibroblades – the list went on. And on.

You’d finally found the base’s well-hidden, impressively stocked armament warehouse holding the tribes’ combined arsenal. It seemed that after years of scraping by they were intent on preparing for anything and everything while they could. Considering their people’s recent history, you understood. It wasn’t exactly a place you normally wanted to linger in, but it was worth the trip – just as you were assured you would, you found the exact Mandalorian you were looking for.

“ _Jetii_ ,” he greeted huskily as he set down a rather large crate of ammunition next to you, “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you, Blue,” you answered.

As he crossed his arms over his cuirass, you noted the dents and scratches chipping away at the paint of his old armor. His dark visor tilted downward to meet your stare as he waited for you to continue. You imagined the hulking Mandalorian looked down at most people. If Mando was a formidable man, then he was a veritable mountain. 

“What can I do for you?” he asked. A hint of something like curiosity or amusement laced his modulated words.

You took a deep breath. You knew the wiser course of action would be to listen to Mando. You were worrying about things that shouldn’t have mattered and were well out of your control. But you couldn’t help yourself. Not when you were standing in front of the one person in the galaxy who might have answers for you.

“I need you to tell me everything you know about the darksaber.”

He made a noise. It was either a grunt or a laugh, but you had no idea which. “Why?”

“It’s recently come to my attention that such a weapon exists, but as far as the records I have show – granted I’m basing this off of an old holocron that was last updated around 19 BBY – your ancestor was the last known person to wield the saber. The very one you mentioned the day we met. Don’t think I’ve forgotten _that_.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he chided, “But I’m always happy to talk about my clan.” He gestured to a few nearby cargo containers and the two of you sat across from each other. “What do you know?”

“The basics from Tarre to Pre Vizsla.”

“Then you know that Tarre Vizsla was a Jedi like you. His darksaber was passed down through my family for generations. And that Pre Vizsla wielded the saber as he sought our reunification under strong leadership free of the control of the Old Republic. And the Jedi who would bend the galaxy to their will in the name of democracy.”

Even as you hung on his every word, the lightsaber clipped to your hip suddenly felt heavy. You were well aware of the Jedi Council’s failings, but it was difficult to hear from someone whose people were hurt by the Jedi.

“In the end it wasn’t the Jedi but his own arrogance that led to his demise. Mandalorians value strength, but we also understand the dangers of hubris,” he explained. It was surprisingly reassuring. "He was struck down by a Sith Lord and my people fell into a civil war. The darksaber changed hands many times since then. Falling to enemies and allies, outsiders and Mandalorians alike.”

“So you don’t know who has it now?”

“If the rumors are true, some Imps stole it years ago. Claimed it as their prize while they razed what was left of the people of Mandalore. We scattered across the Outer Rim and have spent every day since fighting for our survival. Finding an old relic was not a priority,” he sighed. “And now that the Empire has fallen, your guess is as good as mine.”

Your mind raced as you thought about his story and what it might mean about your vision. What if it was still in the clutches of some undeserving ex-Imperial? That certainly made more sense than a future where you dueled with a Mandalorian. But no matter who had the weapon, one thing was clear to you – it needed to be returned to its rightful owners. “Old relics often have power beyond the literal,” you mused. “You said it yourself: the Mandalorians are fragmented. The darksaber is a symbol of your unity. It belongs to your people. To your family.”

“I am the last of a dying clan. There are no great families like there once was. I would be content just to see in the hands of a Mandalorian,” he said it evenly, but you suspected he was well versed in keeping his emotions at bay. Even where his own family was concerned. He picked up a cloth lying nearby and unsheathed his vibroblade, setting to work polishing it. You wondered if the gesture was meant as a distraction for himself. “Now, tell me why you’re interested in the darksaber, _Jetii_.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Start talking.”

You exhaled deeply and wondered if that tale would ever become easier to explain. It certainly felt like it would weigh on your forever. “It’s difficult to explain, but the Force gave me a vision of two different versions of my future,” you started quietly. “In one I battled someone with your family’s darksaber. I only learned what it was last night. What it might mean.” His hands idled at your words, but he didn’t look at you. Instead, his gaze seemed to travel to the weapon at your side. “But I don’t think that future will ever come to pass,” you hurriedly added, “And my earlier promise holds true. I am no enemy to your people.”

“ _Mando’ad draar digu_ ,” he mumbled. You waited for him to translate. “A Mandalorian never forgets.” Your heart sunk at his words. Perhaps the history of your two peoples would always persist. When he finally looked at you again, you something in the air shifted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do better. You are not like the Jedi of the past. I misjudged you.”

“That’s kind of you to say, Blue,” you said sincerely. One lone Jedi, who wasn’t even really a Jedi, becoming friends with a couple of Mandalorians might not mend a rift spanning millennia, but it felt like a start. “I understand why you are so protective of your Tribe. What you have here is important.”

“You are a welcome addition.”

“Oh,” you gasped, taken aback by his straightforward statement. You wondered if he was implying what you thought he was. Perhaps your lack of armor meant your feelings were obvious to everyone around you. “Well, I appreciate that. Really, I can’t tell you how much it means to me,” you emphasized, placing a hand over your heart, “But I can’t– I can’t stay. And I won’t be back” His helmet tilted to the side and you knew he meant for you to continue. You’d learned to read Mandalorian body language. “Once we get to Lah’mu, Mando and I will part ways.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it, _Jetii_ ,” he demanded gruffly.

“I told you that I saw my future.” Your gaze dropped from his visor as you ran your sweaty palms across the tops of your thighs. “I know he leaves me. I watched it happen once, and in a few days, it will come to pass.”

“Then he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought he was.”

You laughed wetly. “It won’t be his fault,” you explained, “Our paths are meant to diverge. It is what the Force wills.”

“Growing up I always heard stories about the Jedi, and now I have seen your abilities for myself, but I will remain skeptical about your Force,” he stated. And you knew there would be no changing his mind on the matter. He might’ve grown to like you, but he was certainly stubborn. “What you saw must be wrong.”

You couldn’t even think of a response. As sure as you were about your future, you wished he was right. A quiet fell over you as he returned his focus to polishing his vibroblade. It practically shone but he still didn’t seem satisfied.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the Child waddled into the armament hall, unfazed by the weapons around him, and over to the two of you.

“How did you get here?” you asked the baby. He giggled as he walked past you. Before he could disappear among the stacks of supplies, your companion across from you picked him up and set him in his lap. You were momentarily surprised by his gentleness for someone so large and intimidating – you’d fought him yourself and knew firsthand how strong he was – but that quickly faded. The Mandalorians might’ve been warriors to the rest of the galaxy, but to each other, they were family. And that little green foundling was definitely family.

A group of three younglings raced across the threshold, clearly panicking as they looked for the kid. They ran over to you, apologizing profusely.

“Sorry, _Jetii_ ,” Ename emphasized as she ran up to you. “We’re keeping an eye on him, promise!”

“Syana is going to scold us for letting him get away,” Mai stated, “But he really is faster than he looks.”

“I believe you,” you assured her with a smile. “He’s a sly one, isn’t he?”

“I think he used his powers to sneak by us,” the young boy added. If you remembered correctly, that was Kayden under the yellow helmet. Mai shook her head at him and Ename mumbled something like _boys_ under her breath. You had to stifle a laugh at the interaction.

“The baby really wants to be with you,” Mai added, “He’s been looking for you ever since you left.”

“As you can see, he’s in good hands now.” You gestured to the Mandalorian across from you.

“What time will the lessons start today, _al’verde_?” Kayden asked him.

“As soon as I’m finished here. Get the others and prepare the training room,” he started with a stern tone made much less threatening by the baby climbing up his cuirass to perch on his shoulder. He was clearly used to men clad in Beskar and wasn’t at all intimidated by the large man. You couldn’t see the children’s expressions, but you could see the shake of their shoulders as they suppressed their giggles. “I know you haven’t done it already because you’ve been messing around all morning.”

“Yes, _al’verde_ ,” the children chimed in unison, snickering at the sight of the baby playing with the attachment on his helmet. Their laughter finally bubbled up through their modulators as they ran off to fulfil their orders

“Nothing but trouble,” he said affectionately as he pried the baby off his shoulder and placed him back in his lap. “Just like his father.”

“I can’t imagine Mando being nearly as mischievous as this one.”

“No. His heart is what gets him in trouble. Always has,” he stated simply. That you could understand. You’d seen it for yourself both in his past and present. The little foundling was evidence to it. “I give my brother a hard time. I have to – he’s soft. But the truth is, after everything our people have been through, after the life he has led for our Tribe, he deserves something good.” Perhaps upon realizing what he had said, he added, “Don’t tell him I said any of this.”

“Afraid Mando will think you’re soft too?” you teased. He made a disgruntled noise you took as a resounding _yes_. “I try to tell him the same thing, but I don’t think he believes me.” You stroked the Child’s cheek as he chewed on his mythosaur. His wide eyes followed the voices of the conversation with rapt interest. “This little one makes him happy. Maybe one day he’ll admit that to himself.”

“As do you.” You stilled at his words, before retracting your hand. “Tell me something, do you want to stay with him?” Your stubborn silence and inability to meet his visor said it all. “I’m starting to think the two of you share that lonely brain cell. He must have it now.”

You gasped at him. “That’s cold, Blue.”

“You’re mad because I’m right,” he retorted. With that you expected the conversation to resume its lighthearted teasing, but what he said next shocked you. “You can call me Paz now.”

“Can I– Am I allowed to know that?” you asked, eyes wide in surprise and frozen in place on your makeshift seat. The children from the other tribes were the only ones who’d shared their names with you. His name was an unprecedented truth and you were shocked at how easily he offered it to you. “I didn’t think Mandalorians shared their names.”

“Typically, we don’t give our names to outsiders. But you already know I hail from Clan Viszla,” he countered, “What could it hurt?”

“Well, that’s true, but I was going to play coy and not mention that,” you tried to inform him seriously, but were unable to hide the slight smirk playing on your lips. He just laughed at that. A hearty, rumbling noise of amusement from deep beneath his worn blue cuirass. The baby on his lap smiled up at him.

“I appreciate that. But you’re not exactly an outsider anymore, are you?”

You glanced away from his steady gaze and offered a slight shrug. Paz was quiet for a drawn-out moment, either waiting for you to say something or contemplating his next question. When you remained quiet, he filled the silence, leaning forward so that his form took up most of your view.

“Do you mean to tell me he hasn’t told you his?”

“No, of course not,” you answered with a firm shake your head, “I wouldn’t ask for it either. That is his to give.”

“Most don’t understand that. Your respect for our culture is appreciated. That is partly why the Tribe likes you.”

“That and–” you started before making a waving gesture.

A curt laugh escaped his vocoder. “That doesn’t hurt. Nor does being able to take on any of us. But that is not what I spoke of.” You waited for him to continue. “One of our own loves you.”

Every time someone – be it Paz or the little girls – insinuated that you belonged with them, with Mando, your heart seized in your chest. You blinked away the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“But if he’s not going to get his clan in order,” he started as he leaned back against the crates, arms and legs spread and taking up a ridiculous amount of room, “You could always stay with me.”

“You’re shameless, Paz,” you laughed, “Absolutely shameless.”

“You’re fun to tease, _Jetii_.” His deep laughter joined yours. If he meant to distract you from your sadness and make you smile, he succeeded. “You could at least help me with the youngling’s lesson today.”

“I’d love to.”

… . …

After Din finally finished with the ship’s extensive repairs, he left the hangar and cut a path through the bustling base straight to the armory. He felt the heat of the fires even through his armor as soon as he crossed the threshold of the workshop. And, as always, his _alor_ anticipated his approach.

“I hope this is to your liking,” she said in place of a greeting. She offered him a small charm on a length of thin leather cord. “I did as you asked.”

He ran a gloved finger across the intricate charm. It was sturdy, but dainty, almost delicate. And not unlike the one you used to wear. The one you’d sacrificed in that cavernous temple on Vrogas Vas. Except this moon was silver as it was forged from Beskar. The armorer had sampled the steel from the top left corner of his cuirass – a small sliver you’d somehow noticed was missing.

And the crescent was made complete by his clan’s sigil. The tusk of the mudhorn rounded out the moon.

“It’s perfect,” he assured her, his voice heavy.

“Who is she to you?” his _alor_ asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. She spoke quietly even though they stood alone.

“A friend,” he responded much too quickly.

“You have never been a good liar.” She said it lightly, but she was baiting him. He tried to amend it, but found his vocabulary failed him in half a dozen different languages.

“She can never be anything more than a friend.” He sounded as bitter as he felt, his jaw clenching beneath his helmet.

“Why is that?” She was never one to dance around a subject. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to explain his feelings for you, feelings he’d barely admitted to himself, let alone out loud. But she was the leader of his Tribe and there was no reason to hide anything, not when she could already see it so clearly.

“I couldn’t ask her to walk the path of the Mandalore, swear the creed, just to be with me,” he explained. As much as he wanted to be with you, he was not a selfish man. It wasn’t the only force working to keep the two of you apart, but it was something she would understand.

“So it is marriage you think of.”

Din stilled as a warm blush crept up his neck and rouged his cheeks. “It doesn’t matter what I think of. She isn’t meant to be a Mandalorian.”

“No, she is not.” A quiet moment passed between them before she reopened the cabinet drawer from which she’d produced the necklace. When she found what she was looking for, she turned back to Din and motioned for him to hold out his hand before gently placing something in the palm of his glove. When he looked down, he found two rings. “These bands were crafted from the same steel you offered from your cuirass. As it should be.”

“I don’t– I don’t understand,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the pair of matching rings.

“She need not be a Mandalorian to be your wife.”

His visor snapped up to meet her’s once more. He was sure he’d heard her wrong. His head was spinning, and the small silver rings felt impossibly heavy in his hand. “But the creed–” he started in weak protest.

“Traditionally spouses swear the creed. That much is true. However, there are many ways to interpret the _Resol’nare_ without losing the true meaning. Our way is but one. The rules we follow to protect and defend the Tribe are not meant to prohibit our happiness. That is something much too rare.” She reached towards him again, folding his fingers firmly around the rings. “Are you familiar with the _riduurok_?”

“Yes.” Din’s voice was hoarse and broke over the single syllable. He’d learned the marriage vows decades ago, though he _never_ expected to recite the words himself. He wasn’t lying when he told you he’d never marry – it wasn’t something he’d ever imagined for himself. At least, not until he met you.

“I encourage you to consider each vow carefully. Within those words, you might find the insight you need.”

“I don’t understand,” he rasped.

“And yet, I have faith that you will.” His brows knitted beneath his helmet as he considered her words, but she’d already moved on to her next line of questioning. “You will continue your journey today?”

“Yes.”

“And your plan?”

“Deliver her to Lah’mu, deal with Gideon on Nevarro, and find the Child’s people,” he answered indifferently, “Nothing has changed.”

She hummed a neutral response as she adjusted the flames of her forge, never one to rest in between projects. “When you accomplish your goals, you will return to us and finally assume the role your station demands. You’ve earned it.”

“I’d rather–”

“Din Djarin,” she said, effectively stopping him with his own name, “You are meant for greater successes than bounty hunting.” She ceased her work and faced him straight on. “I’ve told you on many occasions that the foundlings are our future. You have always agreed with me. I don’t think you’ve ever interpreted that to include yourself.” She made to leave but stopped to add one final thought. “I, for one, hope you return with her. The people of Mandalore and the Jedi have a complicated and bloody history. However, you, and you alone, are uniquely positioned to heal those wounds.”

“What could I do?”

“Your foundling is strong with the Force. You’ve fallen in love with a Jedi. Is your path not clear to you?”

He shook his head, trying again to object. But she wouldn’t have it.

“This is the way.”

“This is the way,” Din echoed, despite the fact that his whole future suddenly felt uncertain. On that note, she left him to gather her tools and pull up schematics, and he tucked the rings carefully into a pocket on his utility belt, not daring to look at them again. Not yet.

“Hey, kid,” Din said as he crouched next to his foundling. After leaving the armory, he found you training with Vizsla and the younglings. The baby sat nearby, munching on some of the dried meiloorun fruit you always seemed to have stashed away in your bag, and looked on with rapt interest. When his big brown eyes met Din’s familiar helmet, he squealed happily.

Apparently, it was loud enough to catch the attention of the other kids and a whole hoard of them crowded around him.

“Train with us, _Beroya_!”

“Yeah! _Jetii_ said you’re the best fighter she’s ever faced.”

“ _Al’verde_ disagreed.”

“Of course he did,” Din mumbled, looking up from the children to glare across the room at Vizsla.

His scowl fell from his face as you parted the crowd to stand by him. Placing a hand over the heart of his cuirass, you tucked yourself into his side and looked up at him with bright, pleading eyes. “Won’t you practice with us for a little bit?” you asked rather beseechingly, “You must have a few minutes to spare.”

Din looked down at the expectant kids and then back to you. He wondered if you knew what you were doing when you batted your lashes at him like that. You must’ve known you had no need for mind tricks where he was concerned. That face could convince him of anything.

Finding that he didn’t have it in him to tell you that the ship is ready, he nodded once. It was enough to satisfy the kids as they dispersed and eagerly awaited their next instructions from Vizsla. You took his hand and made to pull him further into the room. Only his feet wouldn’t follow. You turned to him with a questioning look.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly so that only you would hear.

“With the kids?” you asked.

“I’m never around them.” Aside from the last few months with his foundling, he never spent time around the younglings. Kids weren’t part of his job description. He didn’t know where to start with something like this. “I’m not great with children.”

“You’re joking right?” you said with a raised brow. You continued without waiting for a response. “Mando, you’re amazing with kids. You have more patience in one orange-tipped finger than most men have for their whole lifetimes.” You raised your clasped hands as if to prove your point. “Just help them when they need it. I promise you that it’s easy.”

With that, you drug him into the crowd of excited young Mandalorians.

The training went surprisingly well. Much better than Din had anticipated. The children were eager to learn and receptive to any help offered. As they practiced, he occasionally corrected their stances or repeated a demonstration until they understood it. You’d said he had his own brand of terse encouragement and assured him that was a good thing. Either way, the kids seemed to respond to it.

An hour later, with their lessons finished for the day, the younglings had gathered around you and were watching in wonder as the kid levitated an old training tool, showing off for his audience. You beamed down at him as you held the baby in your lap and Din was certain all the children wore smiles under their helmets as well.

When you caught Din’s gaze through the crowd, your smile brightened more than he thought possible. It left him feeling as if all the air had been forced from his lungs. He was once again struck by how well you fit in at the base, with his Tribe. Better than he did after so many years of being away. Even without swearing the creed yourself, it would be so easy for you to stay and be happy amongst his people.

It made him keenly aware of the silver bands resting in his pocket.

Din knew the vows of the _riduurok_. They’d been playing in a constant loop in his mind all ever since his conversation with the armorer. Still, he wouldn’t entertain the idea of promising them to you. It wasn’t possible. But when you looked at him like that, you tempted him. He’d shared his whole history with you, everything that made him who he was, and you accepted him for it all. And he did the same for you. More than that, he wanted to share the rest of his life with you. Suddenly all of the things he told himself he never wanted, thought he couldn’t have, came rushing to the surface. An overwhelming wave of emotion hollowed out his chest and threatened to split his heart in half as his eyes fell shut behind his helmet.

Din loved you. That much he knew without a doubt. But he’d also accepted that he wasn’t in your future.

“I hear your Jedi won’t be returning with you,” Vizsla said to him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s complicated–”

“Save it, Djarin. I heard all about that,” he interrupted harshly. He turned on him, forcing him to look him in the visor. “Do you know what I would give to have Yila back?” A chill ran down Din’s spine at the name. He remembered the woman well enough despite having only met her in passing when he would visit the covert. What was seared into his memory was Vizsla’s fury and anguish as he mourned the loss of his wife to Imperial stormtroopers. “I would give my own life this very moment if it meant she would live on in my place. It’s been nearly fifteen years and that will never change. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her. We all know loss but believe me when I tell you parting with the one who holds your heart is an enduring pain. It does not fade. Why would the two of you choose that fate for yourselves?” 

Din had no response. What could he possibly say to that? Vizsla was a brusque man, rough around the edges even for one of their kind, but what he said was heartbreakingly true. He offered his remembrance instead, hoping it meant something to the other Mandalorian. “ _Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_ , Yila,” he said quietly.

He clapped a hand on Din’s pauldron. “ _K’oyaci, vod_.”

 _Come back safely, brother_.  
… . …

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” you said softly, gazing out the transparisteel window of the _Razor Crest_ at the crowded hanger below. A few of the kids waved up at you. “Your people. Your culture. It’s all so wonderful. So you. I feel like I understand you better now.”

“I should be thanking you. I wouldn’t have had this time with my Tribe if I wasn’t on this,” he paused, seeming to struggle to find the right word, “Adventure with you.”

You turned to him with a gentle smile. “It has been quite the adventure, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “But it’s not over yet, sweetheart.”

You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest at the endearment as you attempted to take your usual seat. You shot Mando a confused look when he stopped you with a firm hand on your bicep.

“You did fine before but now I’m going to teach you how to fly properly.”

“I’ll be honest,” you started to protest even as he sat you in the captain’s chair, “I don’t see a whole lot of flying in my future.”

“Just let me do this for you.” You regarded him for a moment. For whatever reason, he wanted to pass this skill on to you. It seemed to mean something to him to teach you. You nodded once before turning to the controls. He placed the kid on the console next to you before standing behind you. “What do you remember?” he asked.

You considered the expanse of buttons, switches, and controls laid out in front of you. You flipped three silver toggles and the ship whirred to life around you.

“Good,” he praised, rewarding you with a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Now the engines.”

“Got it,” you said under your breath, as you hit a few more buttons.

“ _Ad’ika_ ,” he said, catching the baby’s attention. He pointed to a switch and the kid pressed his claw to it. When he tried to flip a blinking red light as well, Mando stopped him with a gentle hand. “We’ve talked about that one, kid.”

A light laugh escaped you as you pulled at the yoke, lifting the ship off the ground and carefully maneuvering it out of the open hanger doors. As you’d expected, Mando was a natural with the kids earlier just as he was with his foundling.

The _Crest_ idled above the base, waiting for you to guide it into space. But you hesitated, unable to tear your eyes away from the sinking twin suns painting the sky a vibrant orange and bathing the tree-lined mountain in a brilliant gold light. When you’d landed on that frost-bitten planet a few days prior, you had no idea it would be so difficult to say goodbye.

Next to you, Mando pulled up the starmap and walked your through a series of route calculations that made your head spin. With the course to Lah’mu plotted, Besberra’s the golden sunlight was replaced with the cold, dark starlight of space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations  
> Cyarika: beloved, sweetheart  
> Jetii: Jedi  
> Mando’ad draar digu: a Mandalorian never forgets  
> Al’verde: commander  
> Alor: leader  
> Resol’nare: six actions, the tenets of Mando life. the creed  
> Riduurok: love bond, specifically between spouses - marriage agreement  
> Beroya: bounty hunter  
> Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Daily remembrance of those passed on followed by repetition of loved ones' names.  
> K’oyaci: Come back safely. Literally, a command; "Stay alive!" Can also mean "Cheers!"  
> Vod: brother  
> Ad'ika: little one


	11. Disillusionment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise as you and the Mandalorian make your way across the galaxy to Lah'mu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!
> 
> Stay safe and take care of yourselves, my friends 💕
> 
>  **Chapter Warnings:** the typical angst and a little smooching. Mild language.
> 
> P.S. this chapter is spoiler-free for the season two!

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together. 

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life. 

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the _Razor Crest_. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer.

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?” 

“I wanted to get you two back to the _Crest_.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.” 

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip.

“ _Gods_ _,_ you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight.

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

.

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the _Razor Crest_. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it. 

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!”

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?” 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.”

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he responded quickly. 

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.” 

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.” 

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word.

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you." 

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the _Razor Crest_ , Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family. 

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because _of course_ you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din.

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The _Crest_ was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

.

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping _here_?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the _Crest_. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.”

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

“Last time–”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.”

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “ _Di’kut_.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in _Mando’a_ ,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

“Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed.

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.”

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You _told_ me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.”

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some _godsforsaken_ reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “ _Please_ , Mando.”

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted. 

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. _If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy._ With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night.

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased. 

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped. 

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed.

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both.

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you. 

The kids ran off, shouting _catch us, dad_ _!_ A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

“Good morning, Din,” you sighed. 

.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt _real_. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm. 

You were still on the _Razor Crest_ , tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse and laced with sleep. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.” 

“Of your future on Lah’mu?”

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not _the way_. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.” 

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction.

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before. 

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, _cyar’ika_.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him. 

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he _squeezed_ the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel _that_ good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath. 

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you. 

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.” 

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

.

After descending the _Razor Crest’s_ ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, _cyar’ika_. Lead the way.”

.

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was. 

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment. 

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire.

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling. 

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.”

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “ _That’s_ your master?” He didn’t sound amused. 

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://tiffdawg.tumblr.com/)


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